Flawed Design
by NightCrimson
Summary: AU: "If I were a fly on the wall in your house, what would I see?" - When Orion Black, the son of mass-murderer Sirius Black, stepped into a 'charmed' life as the Malfoy family's ward, he knocked over a line of dominoes. And, Viscaria Malfoy, the first child of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, just watched with a smile. OCs Warning. (In process of re-editing bits of this fic)
1. Prologue: Requiem

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Prologue: Requiem**

* * *

**2nd November, 1977**

* * *

It was strange.

The new-born, carefully wrapped in a silk sheet, was darling. A tuft of slick, honey-blonde hair on her head, a pinkish, small face with full cheeks and a button nose. Big, grey eyes wide with curiosity almost like those cherub dolls her father used to buy her as a girl.

Her mother, Druella, had once called it the frog stage.

But, it was anything but. The child was angelic, especially after the Calming Draught had taken care the horrendous screeching. Who knew that such a little thing could pack such strong lungs?

To think she'd nearly believed children would be a burden. It would be a shock to anyone who thought they knew her, the strange thought. Out of all of her sisters, she had been the 'girliest' one, so to speak, playing with dolls until she was thirteen years old and even a little bit after… it would seem like motherhood would come to her most naturally.

"She has her father's eyes..." The sharp voice broke her thoughts.

Narcissa had never quite seen her mother-in-law smile much before. Veloria Malfoy had always been so serious, her hawk-like eyes hardly ever impressed. The shock of whitening blonde and a pointed face with deep frown lines painted her personality. Yes, the tall, lean woman was intimidating, you could tell just by her firm countenance and her swift determination.

Yet, her mother-in-law was quite pleased. Quite pleased, indeed.

And, Narcissa couldn't help but let out a breath she'd been holding.

And, Lucius' very particular father, Abraxas Malfoy, was even worse in this regard for no real reason at all. It was a blessing he'd been held up. That man unnerved her with his ever-watchful eyes, filled to the brim with silent judgement, would only spoil it.

You'd think she'd be more concerned with Lucius' reaction to their beautiful, baby girl. However, as the baby was healthy and looked promising, there was nothing to fear -and their new-born baby was plush, a whopping eight pounds and had a spectacular set of lungs. She dared him to find fault with that, only Veloria could.

"Yes..." Narcissa breathed, feeling a dear thirst and an overwhelming tiredness, of course. "...She's beautiful, isn't she...?" She swallowed, licking her dry lips and slowly straightening herself out.

"I expected nothing less..." the Malfoy Matriarch remarked, looking the child over approvingly. "Have you a name, Lucius, Narcissa...?"

She felt a firm hand on her shoulder, slowly lift her head to give Lucius a weak smile. He stroke a strand of messy blonde hair from her sweat-covered forehead, leaning down to kiss her pale, high-boned cheek.

"V-Viscaria..." Narcissa breathed, tightening her hand on her husbands, and trying to sit up. "Viscaria... Aquila Malfoy..."

* * *

**3rd June, 1978**

* * *

Being pregnant...

Unsurprisingly, it had been difficult.

You felt all of it. The aches. The sickness. You felt like a balloon with a big stone inside, bloated and ready to explode. You felt like throwing up at the most random things... like maybe how Alessa Fenetre could bleeding tone down the perfume once and a while, the cougar!

She'd expected with her good-rearing she'd be able to handle the pregnancy with a gracefulness, a dignity and caring. Her mother had recounted how her own pregnancy went that way. Yet, the mood-swings proved problematic and sometimes her wide smile was stressed still it snapped. Especially when Sirius kept awkwardly squashing his face against her belly every moment he got and made baby sounds like an idiot.

"Gaa, goo, gaa, barkie, goo... little Ry-Ry."

_All of her hate!_

Ahem. It was a trial.

So, she decided to take a little grace in the situation. Every time she got angry or upset, she'd just imagine how worth it will be when she's cuddling up to her baby and watching his bright smile and, maybe, dimples. Yes, she bet it would be a handsome, smart little guy. She smiled at that, because it would all be worth it.

_Yes..._

_...For the millionth time._

However, if months of pregnancy was the trial, the labour was the unjust ruling. Merlin, she had never, ever in a hundred years felt something so agonising! It was just so unbearable; time felt as slow as paint drying. She'd regretted not opting for the soothing potions, silly idealistic thoughts of how the pain _counted_.

She'd nearly broken his wrist, Sirius had complained... although, he was probably just exaggerating. Not that it mattered, anyway, because she had a beautiful baby boy now. Even though, she was tired, pink, sweaty and panting - that child's face filled her with a sort of exuberance that kept her awake and alert.

Her son.

_Orion Remus Black._

What a jolly, beautiful, little fellow.

It made it worse. The horrors of this world, the war that was raging and the death it brought. Wizards and witches falling like dominos, Healers desperately trying to save what was left of them just a few floors below. Marlene's little girl spinning in the air dead. And, here was this jolly little fellow so ignorant of that, so helpless...

She would protect him with her life. _But, would her life be enough? _The treacherous thoughts whispered.

Sirius flashed her a wolfy grin. "I hope those are tears of joy…" he teased, and Eloise felt herself smile gratefully, wiping the wetness away and looking down at the sleeping child.

There was no time for doubt; Orion Black would live a happy life. He had to.

* * *

**2nd June, 1981**

* * *

Eloise smiled.

She hadn't really had much to smile about, but she supposed it made sense it would be Orion. Her adorable little boy with his cherub face and wide, dark eyes would make her day...

...and, his ridiculous father who'd come to visit, of course. Sirius had suggested that Orion ride one of those expensive, little toy brooms that he'd bought as an early birthday present.

_"Come on, Orion'll be a Quidditch champion in no time."_

_"He'll run circles around everyone when he's older, even James' kid."_

Now, she remembered, she had sighed, waved her hand and given the reluctant go-ahead.

She'd watched them for a bit, and when she was satisfied there was nothing but silly giddiness and Sirius' watchful, careful eyes as he guided their son around on the hovering toy broomstick, she had retired to her room. She needed to write a letter to Alessa about the scandal with Visinia Zabini, after all; mostly just speculation work, as Witch Weekly wasn't know for its hard-hitting journalism, but there were still a few choice questions she felt they could weasel in.

She hoped it would do some good, but she doubted it.

After that urgent business, she'd have to write to her parents to apologise for missing the last visit and to reschedule the next. She didn't quite like having to leave them alone in the country for too long, but she just had so much on her plate-

Then, there had been a crash and a shout.

She'd practically thrown the quill across the room and flung herself through the doors to find - _oh Merlin, please be alright, Orion_ \- to find... Um, what in Merlin was that?

Sirius was sitting in the middle of the room, covered in paint, powder, feathers, jelly and the cake she'd been making for Orion's birthday tomorrow. Trying to keep a wriggling Orion from grabbing the toy broomstick Sirius was now holding high in the air.

She smiled.

The wide-eyed expression on Sirius face... she giggled, then she cackled gleefully. She could only guess Sirius had let Orion go, let him zoom around on his own and Orion had managed to just about to reach and knock over everything.

He scowled.

"You're cleaning this up, Sirius..." she guffawed, breaking into another bout of laughter.

Sirius was stubborn, of course, but after similar incidents that were funny and not so funny, even he threw in the towel and end up passing on the hazardous toy to his godson Harry for his first birthday. Eloise hadn't been sure whether to disapprove or be very amused by that. Oh, but she cherished times like these. She wished they'd never end, that it could just last forever, for eternity...

...She wished it.

* * *

**1st November, 1981**

* * *

Lucius looked at Narcissa.

Holding little Draco closer to her chest, she looked right back at him, taking note of his haggard appearance, the wildness of his eyes. There were so many questions, some many rumours and there was certainly no time for sleep despite the darkness of the early morning.

Viscaria was no longer playing with her dolls, it was as if she too was choking on the tension.

"The Dark Lord is dead."

* * *

**AN: *Sheepish* ****Please review and tell me what you think? I'm open to any criticisms...**

**Edit: Just edited some bits here and there.**


	2. Chapter 1: Golden Ashes

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Chapter 1: Golden Ashes**

* * *

**5th December, 1981**

* * *

It was simple, really.

Troublesome, but simple. With a few generous bribes here and there, with a few little threats here and there, with a few theatrics performances of his regret all over the place. _'Regret'_ at what surely wasn't his fault, of course...?

_'Imperiused', he swore._

_Oh, the horror of it all! Forced to serve the Dark Lord, a madman beaten by a one-year-old child - oh the shame!_

Thankfully, the Wizengamot had been most gracious. Most kind. Even the Minister for Magic, the ever-impermeable Millicent Bagnold, had given her condolences for the nightmare ordeal.

So, Lucius Malfoy came home to his beautiful wife, Narcissa Malfoy. Her bright blonde glinting in the sun. Her brilliant blue eyes, warm and watery with joy. The smile that pushed up her cheeks made him smile himself - although, maybe it was more of a smirk. She was wrapped in a beige cloak with black fur; their darling daughter stood at her side and their son slept in her arms.

He kissed her twice on the cheek (careful not to squash Draco, who was resting in her arms, the tyke). They were almost blinded by the bright flashes of tens and tens of cameras milling around them at that moment.

He charmingly flicked a blonde curls behind her ear with his thumb as he stroked her cheek.

What would the Prophet say emboldened on its front page? Well, Mr Malfoy had a fine guess...

**_LUCIUS MALFOY! INNOCENT!_**

...Or...

**_MALFOYS REUNITED AFTER NIGHTMARE!_**

...Or, maybe not. Like a dog salivating over a biscuit it just wouldn't let go, all the papers had been reporting and re-reporting how the damned Boy-Who-Did-Not-Die had vanquished the Darkest Lord in history at ONE! At one, I tell you!

Quite pedantic.

It was ridiculous, laughable like an old newspaper comic. If Harry Potter, of one, could survive the killing with just a cut, logically the Greatest Dark Lord in history should have. Yet, the Dark Lord had been vanquished and there was quite some evidence of that once the Unspeakables had got there.

People who knew him better might have asked: why so happy?

He was a free man with big plans, who liked to look for opportunity. Ever the optimist. The death of a Dark Lord shook things up and brought great opportunity, even if it was a tragic such a man would die such an embarrassing death.

"Daddy!" little Viscaria cried, wearing some ghastly-pink, frilly dress (really, Narcissa?), throwing her tiny arms around his leg tightly.

He patted her honey-blonde hair, leaning down to take her in his arms and twirl around to face the camera's with a bright smile. After all, the Prophet always drank up those little, warm moments like this.

Yes, there were quite a few good things.

Bellatrix Lestrange had found herself a nice little cell in Azkaban, quaint for a claustrophobic and joyless existence for the rest of her life. Served her right, too - not that he'd ever talk about Narcissa's sister like that in the open, of course - but, the dull-minded, little bitch had flung her breasts for the Dark Lord, trying to curry favour like an obsessed girlfriend as if Lucius wasn't the Dark Lord's right-hand man, and she'd rightly been too stupid to save her own skin, getting herself locked up with the Lestrange brothers and Crouch Jr.

And, Lucius really didn't mind.

Besides, while Potter-the-miracle-tyke - he sneered - had survived and vanquished the Dark Lord, at least his blood-traitor father and mudblood mother were six-feet under and counting. So, there was another positive there. Although, that was all was just the icing on the cake, since the best welcome home present second to seeing his family was the face he smirked at in the newspaper...

It was a shame, really, the Malfoys heart-wrenching story couldn't get on the first page this time, but he'd let it pass. Sirius Black certainly fitted the criminal mug-shot the best, anyway, very much appropriate for a new dawn and the rebuilding of society. Shaggy hair. Dirty skin. Grotty clothes. Screaming like a maniac, ironically like his most-hated cousin.

They'd really captured his finesse quite well.

And, of course, he and Narcissa had had a word or two to say about their troubled, estranged relative. Pockets to be filled, and whatnot.

Lucius broke away from his thoughts at the faint tugging of his sleeve. "...Yes, it's very nice, Viscaria," he remarked, looking down and giving her a charming smile. Her little face glowed, her big, grey eyes getting even bigger.

It really wasn't. Was that supposed to be him with a potato face like that and stomach that looked like a mountain, really...? However, he reminded himself she was just a little girl who couldn't draw, and probably never would, so there was no need to be harsh.

And, that was his life.

Work and family.

Family and work.

Social events and more work.

Just a typical week.

In a way he kind of missed the old days a little, and it hadn't even been that long. There was just something charmingly nostalgic about striding into a building full of degenerates and letting his aggression and frustrations out all in service to the Dark Lord.

His purpose had been clear-cut.

He was a part of something.

Although, he didn't quite like the kneeling. Not the bowing, either. Not the grovelling, or the torture...? He grimaced. Yes, this could be a blessing in disguise. He was a Malfoy; Malfoys don't follow, they lead. He could lead. All he needed were the right allies - which he already had most of - and be cautious and clever, which came naturally to him, of course.

He'd meticulously strip Mudbloods and beasts of their petty, undeserving rights. The idea made him smile.

Everything was going perfectly fine for him.

He'd already attained a high position as a member of the Hogwart's Board of Governors. He'd managed to sink some further influence into a number of Ministry Committees, Boards and Departments, which was also quite fulfilling.

He smirked.

They'd all be kissing his feet in the next few years, he was sure.

Also, he had a beautiful family that has and would continue to make the Malfoy lineage proud. And, lot of people he disliked were either dead or suffering to the point the former would be a mercy... which was always a nice little token of providence.

Ah, the fates must really like him.

He smirked.

It was understandable.

* * *

**February 19th, 1985**

* * *

Walburga Black was senile.

Not that'd he'd say that to Narcissa face about her aunt. She always gave him the cold-shoulder when he made observations about her family. But, it was still the truth, even if she liked to pretend otherwise.

The Black Family had been one of the most influential Wizarding families once.

And, their homes echoed their history

The grand chandeliers, now rusty and dusty. The finely-made, patterned wallpaper, now faded and ripped. The rugs and carpets torn, ragged and dampened by the must air. The thickly brown banisters polished to shining perfection and wooden floors, centuries old, now coated in thick dust. Dozens of vases hidden by dust and worn by neglect..

There must have been dozens of paintings. Pale skinned, dark eyed at times, figures with the arrogant veneer of a Black, contrasting with the decaying hole that was Grimmauld Place.

Still, the house was packed with all sorts of mysterious, rich assortments you could stumble upon. The place had always had a proportion of oddly assorted rooms, where you had to take all sorts of windy corridors that twisted about, as if the entire place was some sort of theatrical castle with all kinds of secrets to fall head first into - and, Lucius had just found one.

A child.

Seemed to be about Viscaria's age, in fact. Looked somewhat like her too, with the pale skin and a few, fine features. Yet, they were completely different. This boy wore plain, almost tatty, clothes which consisted of a sweater, grey shorts, black socks and button shoes that looked half-heartedly polished.

Merlin, Lucius would be surprised if Walburga fed the child.

"Hello..." Lucius drawled, looking down his nose at the child. "Lucius Malfoy."

The boy was silent, pressing his lips together, as he shoved some ugly old, stone tablet back on the dusty table.

Lucius rolled his eyes, irritated by the defiance.

"Hello!" the boy blurted out, twiddling his thumbs nervously. "O-Orion."

"I can see..." Lucius drawled, looking the boy over, watching as he shrivelled from his gaze like a dying plant. "What are you doing up here... Orion?" Not that he cared much, especially for the bastard of a blood-traitor. "Why aren't you downstairs with your grandmother and my wife...?"

Orion looked away. "I'm not ready."

Lucius quirked an eyebrow. "Come again?" Did the boy think he was a cake or something?

"Grandmother says I'm not ready," Orion repeated slowly, folding his arms and tilting his chin up. "She says I need work, so I can be a proper gentlemen instead of street gremlin."

"A... street gremlin?" Lucius drawled.

Orion bit his lip. "She says that little children who misbehave are turned into street gremlins, and since they don't deserve a h-home, they'll be taken by the Muggles a-and they'll r-rip me... a-a-apart for stew..." His voice became weaker until he trailed off, looking away. "She say that's w-what happened to my dad and mum...!"

Lucius rolled his eyes.

What a little idiot, but he was the son of Sirius Black so it wasn't surprising. "Right..." Lucius said flatly, nodding his head slowly. "Well you better behave, I hear Muggles like to eat little boys best."

Orion gasped, shrivelling back.

Maybe, he'd gone too far...? Oh well, it wasn't as if he wanted to be here anyway.

Narcissa had been the one who'd abruptly decided that she wanted to see how her Aunt Walburga was, after all this time, as if they hadn't both been trying to distance themselves from the mad-cow for years and as if every-time Aunt Walburga sent an owl they didn't just say they had an important arrangement they just couldn't possibly avoid.

That was why he'd gone on this little wander-about, first chance he got.

"Do they really...?" Orion said, looking nervous.

Lucius frowned. "Yes, but they like oblivious, mean grandmothers much more," he drawled, sounding completely serious, while the boy stared at him with wide eyes. "They'll probably take yours and be so satisfied they'll never come back. So, you'll probably be fine... more or less... just don't tell her about her overdue fate. It'll be a surprise."

The boy paused, before a grin split his face. Looks like the child didn't like Walburga either, not that that was surprising. In all his life, he'd thankfully never met anyone who did like the old bat, even her husband had probably gotten sick of her before he died.

"Well, this has been riveting..." Lucius stated, waving his hand dismissively. "I think I've left my wife and your grandmother for too long." He rolled his eyes, as the child stared at him curiously. "Wouldn't want them thinking I'd got lost, or whatnot, in this ridiculous place..." He looked around, opening his mouth to make "ah" sound. "Do you know where the lounge is...?"

"Yes..." the boy said slowly, nodding hesitantly, then pausing as a thought flitted across his pale face, before he suddenly gave a low bow. "Yes, Mr Malfoy, I will show you," he added humbly, turning around and walking down the winding corridor.

Lucius gave the boy an amused look, as the child led him down a narrow set of stairs.

What a strange child.

Walburga Black, even with a name like that, had once been a glamorous socialite. Over time, her face had acquired over beauty, a lacquer of invincible prettiness that had reminded him of a pedigree cat spoiled rotten. But now, this woman now may have looked similar but not in the ways that mattered. Once prim skin had sagged and gone sickly, her black hair had lost its shine, there were lines made valleys around red-smudged lips and the dark eyes that glinted with something not fully there.

Her clothes were decades worn, yet desperately pressed as if vainly trying to trick people they were new. She wore many necklaces of rubies, beads and diamonds. She wore extravagant earrings, so big he was surprised they didn't stretch her ears to the ground. It was a tragedy, it was a tragedy in both fashion and humanity.

"...And, this is me, of course, you remember?" Walburga said, her eyes glowing as her red nails scrapped against the picture of pretty young woman dancing in a glamorous, black dress with rosy cheeks, smiling dark lips, puffy, illustrious black hair and a small baby-bump showing. "I-I remember you were just so little, so I wouldn't be surprised..." she said, stumbling.

"1959, Beltane Ball...?" Narcissa said, tapping her chin after a long pause. "Is that correct...? I remember that the Minister for Magic of the time, Wilhelmina Tuft was attending; she died in her office the same night from an allergic reaction to Alihotsy-flavoured fudge she'd received as a gift from one of the patrons. Everyone was abuzz - not a night to forget, even at four."

The old bitch smiled. "You have a good memory. You always have," she said, raising the teacup to her lips and taking a small sip. "Ah, Wilhelmina Tuft. People never d-die how you expect don't they...? Sometimes it's the smallest thing, and you'll never k-know..." She looked down, the hands on her lap shaking. "And, the world just moves on and on and on..."

Lucius cleared his throat.

Both women's eyes snapped towards him.

Walburga's smile slipped from her face when she noticed Orion standing shyly to Lucius' side. "And, where'd you find that one...?"

Lucius looked surprised, making a show of looking around for a moment. "Oh, you mean Orion...?" he drawled, gesturing for the boy to come. "Well, when I was looking for the lavatory, I just happened upon him - he was most respectful and kindly showed me the way back." And, he enjoyed the irritated look on Walburga face. "He's quite the little gentleman."

Unfortunately, instead of annoying her, this seemed to soften the old bat's features a tad. "A gentleman...?"

Was she unable understand sarcasm...? What an affliction.

Narcissa gave him a warning look.

Lucius rolled his eyes, but Walburga seemed oblivious. "Yes... a gentleman."

He could not believe he was doing a 'kindness' for Sirius Black's bastard child, but he supposed he just disdained Walburga more. After all, the woman had always thought she was better than him, he could see it in her smug little eyes, even now. There it was, laying just under the glinting surface. That arrogance which made his teeth grind, even if it was hardly surprising the mother of Sirius Black would be such a fool.

The batty old witch smiled at Orion, beckoning him forward. The boy looked surprised, frozen for a moment as if he couldn't believe, but when Walburga's look became little more irritate he hurried his way over to her side.

She patted him on the head, like pup. "Good boy. You can have a biscuit today," she said, gesturing to the plate on the table. "One biscuit." Narcissa and Lucius exchanged dry looks. "You get one," she repeated almost brightly.

Hesitantly, Orion's took a biscuit from the plate. He slowly lifting it to his lips as his dark eyes switched between them all constantly before he took a bite. Then, he took another bite. And, another one, scarfing down the chocolate biscuit without a care in the world and grinning at the taste.

Walburga hissed, her arm snapping out like a viper and gripping Orion's wrist tightly. Orion let out a gasp, dropping what was left of the biscuit to the floor.

"Auntie-!" Narcissa exclaimed, looking surprised.

Lucius frowned.

The deranged witch didn't even look at Narcissa or Lucius, or even realise they were there anymore if you were less hopeful with her sanity, glaring into Orion's wide eyes as if he was the only thing in the world. "You've got crumbs on my carpet," she said lightly, gripping his arm tighter, and the Malfoys shared a bemused look. "You're not supposed to do that, aren't you...?"

Lucius sighed. Was this seriously happening? Didn't she have the decency to do this sort of stuff in private...? No. Well, kick and scream all you want, Narcissa, he wasn't going back to this madhouse ever again!

"Uh..." Walburga twisted Orion's arm tighter. "Y-Yes!"

"Yes, you aren't supposed to do that, aren't you...?" Walburga said triumphantly, her eyes glittering and a smile on her lips. "A gentleman doesn't get crumbs on the floor. A gentleman doesn't disobey." Orion opened his mouth. "No...? Yes...? You were supposed to stay in your room no matter what... isn't that what I said?" The boy paused, before he gave quick nod. "But, you didn't do that, did you not...?" Orion was silent, and that was a mistake. "DIDN'T YOU!?" she shrieked, spraying some spit on to the boy face like some kind of angry walrus. "DIDN'T YOU!? YOU CAN'T FOOL ME LIKE MR MALFOY, YOU UNGRATEFUL SPAWN!"

"Yes..." the boy said, his tone flat like a switch.

Merlin, this was ridiculous.

Lucius cleared his throat loudly, trying to draw the attention of the banshee of a witch. "Walburga, let him go, you trum-"

"Auntie, I think that's quite enough!" Narcissa warned, standing up from her chair and looking aghast.

The batty witch paused, letting go the child's arms, who cradled it like a wounded bird and threw a loathing glare when the woman wasn't looking. "Narcissa... Lucius..." she paused, picking up a pink biscuit and popping it in her mouth. She munched on it for a while, causing the rest of the room much chagrin. And, what lightly came next could have either been a genuinely confused question or a mockery of one for all they knew. "What do you mean...?"

Narcissa swallowed, looking hesitant. "You shouldn't treat a member of your family, a child especially, like that."

Walburga paused, sending Orion a scornful glare. "He's not just a child. You know what he is; who his parents are. If he's ever going to bring honour back to the Black family... if he's going to be an heir to carry on the family name, then he needs a firm hand." She smiled at Narcissa, her wide eyes glinting sincerely. "And, what of it, if it seems harsh? You're father had a firm hand, and raised two beautiful, strong daughters."

Lucius rolled his eyes, not even noticing how his wife stiffened at Walburga's words. Really, he really didn't care enough to waste any effort on Walburga Black of all people.

Even Narcissa gave up after fruitless, polite, sympathetic, irritable, determined attempt at trying to inject some borderline common sense into the insipid dumb-arse of a woman, but unsurprising to no avail Walburga was stubbornly refused to even contemplate she was going 'a bit overboard'. And, it wasn't like they'd take this any further over something as trivial as this, but...

They'd promised they'd be back for another visit.

Walburga had smiled.

But, they'd lied and maybe that had been the final breaking point...?

* * *

**5th October, 1985**

* * *

It felt like all the air had left his lungs.

He wasn't being dramatic, but it felt like he couldn't even breathe.

Lucius Malfoy's hands slammed on the desk, as he practically leapt from his seat. "What?!" he snapped, scarcely believing his ears.

...

**_Child Acquisition Department_**

**_..._**

**_Certificate of Adoption_**

**This form certifies that...**

**Has on the ... day of ..., in the year ... adopted...**

**...**_ORION REMUS BLACK_**...**

Lucius rolled his eyes. Ah, of course Black would 'honour' the damn werewolf.

**...Born on the **_3rd_** day of **_July_**, in the year**_ 1978_**...**

**...Blood parents of the child, **_Sirius Black **and**Eloise Doleur_**...**

**...Previous guardian(s) **_Walburga Black_**... due to...**

May the psychotic bitch rest in peace.

**And the ... has agreed to care for the child until they are of age...**

**...**

And so on and so on and so on... Honestly, the parchment certainly didn't need to go procrastinating on forever, really.

**Please may the guardian(s) sign here...**

**Please may a Social Official sign here...**

**...**

Yet, there it was. It said so on that damned slip of parchment in the emboldened, steadfast print and fanciful, green scrawls his eyes were furiously flicking through. All those words and he could barely process it.

It made him furious.

Mr Guthre, a grey-haired, bespectacled wizard, swallowed. "...Since most of the Black family's members are indisposed, you are Orion Black's next line of kin..." he trailed off, bristling in his chair. "...If you refuse, the child will be passed along to either Andromeda Tonks..." He puffed out his chest. "If she refuses guardianship, another family..." He glanced down at the paperwork. "Most likely Molly Weasley; she is a Prewett, I believe Orion's second-cousin in-law."

Lucius' eyes widened. He'd rather have his own children stay at an orphanage than live with the Weasleys. They'd probably either starve him or use him to add flavour to their shoe-flavoured soup. And, Andromeda Tonks? _Really...?_ He'd become a walking hazard or worse, one just had to look how her half-blood daughter had turned out!

"You must be jok-!" Lucius broke off, his wife's comforting hand touching his. "...Surely, there must be someone else. I swear that his grandfather, Arcturus, is still alive..." He paused, giving his wife a searching glance, who nodded in confirmation. "...Oh, I swear I saw his great Aunt Cassiopeia last week at the Wizengamot." He sneered. "And, oh, I know that his other great grandfather Pollux and his great cow of a wife-"

His wife glared. "Lucius!"

"...are still alive. I saw them stuffing their faces at the buffet table at Berrow's latest party. That is not something you forget, I assure you..." Lucius continued, ignoring his wife's reproachful glare. "You're telling me that neither of these people want to take in their grandson slash great nephew...?" He arched an eyebrow, before shaking his head. "Scandalous... I say."

Guthre sighed. "Unfortunately, there have been complications... Firstly, and I mean no offence, but those relatives of his are over the recommended age to take in a child so young. What's the point in letting them take in a child as young as that if the guardian is going to die five or less years later...? Arcturus Black is not only an elderly man, but also suffering from bouts of sickness. Cassiopeia Black is nearly just as elderly, and also has a criminal record and troubling rumours. Pollux Black and his wife Irma do not want the child for... certain reasons."

Narcissa frowned, while Lucius gritted his teeth.

How inconvenient.

His wife turned to smile at the doddering kook. "Could you give us the room, Mr Guthre...? My husband and I need a moment alone, in private, to talk about such a momentous decision. Would you?" It was hardly question, despite its phrasing.

Guthre nodded, stacking his papers into a neat pile, before hastily leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

She slipped her wand from the pocket of her green cloak and pointed it at the door. "Silencio. Colloportus." All the muffled sounds from the bustling corridors of the Child Acquisition Office died in an instant, the door was locked with clicking sound. "I think we can talk slightly freer now... slightly freer. Tell me how you feel. Get if off your mind first."

"Narcissa... Surely there must be another, appropriate, better way."

She gave him a look. "Why ask a question you know the answer to, Lucius?" She grimaced. "Mr Guthre made the situation quite clear. Us or the Weasleys, and I'd rather swallow a vial of the hemlock poison than have the very hope of the Black family, _my family_, continuing on their name and regaining their prestige swept away and condemned to those sorts."

"Oh, no need to be dramatic," he sighed, waving his hand. "Let's think about this."

Her eyes narrowed into slits. "And, normally, I would agree if there was something to think about, but there isn't. What does it matter anyway...? You seemed the like the boy well-enough when we visited Walburga, you even helped him, I believe..." Her brow scrunched up.

He felt his mouth turn sour at the mention of the old, dead bat. She even managed to spite him when in the afterlife.

He gave her a cheery look. "Narcissa. I gave a biscuit to a street mutt because I felt sorry for it. That doesn't mean that you want the thing to follow you home - who wants that mangy mutt, with its dirty paws and dim-witted mind messing up your house? It's best that we sort things out and make sure Orion is sent to an appropriate home that isn't us."

"You do not give out charity... but you did, Lucius." She arched an eyebrow. "He's done nothing to you, he doesn't deserve your disdain. And yet..." She frowned thoughtfully. "...I am not a fool, Lucius. I'm not blind and expectant, but before I married you I couldn't believe there was such a person who could hate everyone on pretense..."

He looked at her dryly. "You know the reason, Narcissa."

She'd have to try better than that.

And, she did. "Well, I mustn't be as clever as you think I am, because I don't see one. There's no reason that says we can't," she added, frowning at him.

"He's a bastard, Narcissa... He's the son of two blood-traitors, and, not just any blood-traitors mind you," he said, gritting his teeth. "You know I will not have a child with bad blood like that mixing with my children. You shouldn't be so careless either, he's Sirius Black son-"

She stuck up her nose. "Ridiculous, Lucius. Being a blood-traitor is a choice and not a disease OUR children will catch..." There was a tremor in her face, then another and then she chuckled harshly. "Orion's the Black heir, Lucius. This isn't just some blood-traitor spawn. You know how important he is and you know that Walburga wouldn't have even let a blood-traitorous thought cross his mind..."

"What has got into you, Narcissa?" he said, although he could concede she had a bit of a point.

"...Loyalty. Duty. Blood. They didn't get 'into me' suddenly, they have always been there. I've allowed many things, Lucius, but I will not compromise on this," she said sharply, and he didn't like the look on her face.

Oh, he didn't like this.

"...Narcissa?" he asked, feeling almost hesitant.

She breathed, looking at him at him. "I'm very lucky to have you," she said fondly. "You are a great wizard, Lucius. I love you for it. It's the same love... the one that allows me to forgive you so many times, even when you haven't even notice..." She gave him a soft smile. "...I'm not sure if I can do that forever, Lucius."

There was a coldness crawling on his skin. "Narcissa...?" It was all he could say, nitwit he may appear.

"Don't contradict me. Don't make some witty barb. Just believe me when I say this: if we don't take this innocent child and make him follow the right path, then we'll just have another blood-traitor in the world and that'll be the end of the Blacks... And Lucius, I think you'll find I'm all out of forgiveness then," she said, fixing him a cold stare.

Lucius opened his mouth to respond. He closed it. His damn wife always seemed to know the right things to say. Always.

Then, the door opened and the tired face of Guthre peaked through. "Was it really necessary to charm the door?" His brow creased. "I've been banging on it for a full minute." The elderly wizard almost scowled as he said this.

Lucius picked up the quill, pressing the silver tip to the page. "Let's get this over with..."

* * *

**AN: So, Orion's being adopted by the Malfoys... yay! I felt like I needed to do backstory on how Orion came to be with the Malfoy - and, I enjoyed doing Lucius' POV on it.**

**Please review and tell me your review!**


	3. Chapter 2: Serpent's Den

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Chapter 2: Serpent's Den**

* * *

**8th October, 1985**

* * *

Orion shivered.

The sun was bright in the sky but the air was cold.

Cut across them was the wrought-iron gates, their shadows like bars.

His eyes widened as they moved beyond them, taking in the unbelievable openness everything was. It was a very well-kept field, bright green and dusted with frost, the smell of freshly-cut grass tickling his nose. The straight path cut a swathe through it, high hedges aligning it, leading to a very nice-looking manor of white stone standing at the end of the straight pathway, arching up against the whitish-blue sky. There were grand windows shaped like diamonds and he wouldn't be too surprised if they used diamonds instead of glass for them. Stone steps led up to an open porch, host two large, mahogany doors with almost-glowingly gold knockers on them.

"Ahem," Mrs Malfoy's voice came.

The gates swung open almost with a bang.

From the corner of his eye, a small, shriveled hand clasped the handle of his suitcase. It must have been a House-Elf because in an instant it and his suitcase were both gone, not even the glimpse of a sneer.

He stared at where they had been. It really was so quick. Kreacher would have loitered; scowling, snarling and grumbling. He felt a pang in his chest at the thought...

_Home._

He grasped her gloved hand tighter as she led him through the gate.

She smiled at him, her blue eyes almost sparkling against the shadow of her black summer hat. "It's just a peacock," she said, misunderstanding. "Don't worry, you'll get used to them," and she almost coo-ed.

Orion blinked, looking around and then up to find a pure-white peacock, curled in on itself atop a yew hedge. He blushed. "Um... sorry, Mrs Malfoy," he said, quickly relaxing his grip.

Her smile widened, briefly squeezing his hand, as the manor crept closer. "No need. It's fine, Orion." She was a pretty, almost like Amata from The Fountain of Fair Fortune story. Her pale skin seemed to bask in the sun, her blue eyes were kindly and her long, blonde hair glinted gold in the sun, pushing back and forth in the back in the wind.

There was a softness. _Was she really now his mum...? _

Then, Orion nearly hit himself. She was Mrs Malfoy, not _that_. Mr Malfoy and her had been kind enough to take him in when they didn't have to. He shouldn't expect things, just be grateful for their generosity and what he now had.

"Thank you. For having me," he almost mumbled.

She just continued to smile.

They just reached the front porch when the doors swung open, making Orion flinch. Perhaps it was that perfect timing or the three very creepily similar-looking people standing in the doorway?

"He's shorter than I expected."

Orion blinked.

The wizard who had spoken was Mr Malfoy, his cool grey eyes looking over Orion as if expecting a _okay-ish_ present. His long blond hair and black robes stayed perfectly still in the light breeze. And even though the imposing man stood proud and straight, he clasped tightly in his gloved hand a green-eyed, silver snake-headed black cane that was an inch from the ground.

On Mr Malfoy's right was a younger boy, who was smirking at his father's jab. He wore shorts with suspenders over his white, button dress-shirt and had a blue bow-tie at his collar. His short, blond hair was slicked back, his wide eyes the same colour as Mr Malfoy but warmer and alight with mischief.

To Mr Malfoy's left was a girl, taller than her brother. Her wide eyes were just like her father's, just like her brother's. The honey-blonde hair of hers tied back in a pony-tail by a pink ribbon and her gaudy green dress had a flower patterned and a pointy, flat collar.

Snapping his through his thoughts, Mrs Malfoy touched his shoulder, craning her thin neck to give him another reassuring smile. "Orion, this Mr Malfoy, my husband, as I'm sure you know," she said, gesturing towards Mr Malfoy, who gave a curt nod. "My daughter, Viscaria..." Nodding her head to Viscaria, the girl, who did a slight curtsy. "And, this is little Draco-"

"I'm not little!" Draco huffed, folding his arms and jutting out his chin defiantly.

"Of course not," Mrs Malfoy cooed, chucking as her smile brightened even more. "You're my big little man." Draco beamed while Viscaria sighed. "My children already know your name, Orion." She patted him on the shoulder as they began to make their way inside. "Now, let's give you a tour of your new home."

Her smile was contagious.

Orion smiled back as brightly as he could.

Mrs Malfoy's undid her purple, spotted furry cloak and hung it on the rack. Following her lead, Orion put his black cloak there as well.

The first thing to notice about the foyer was how grandly decorated it was, then how unnecessarily large it was. Lavish carpets covered the stone floor. Rustic chandeliers hung high, their glass crystals glowing like tiny stars. Various ornaments perfectly placed. As well as portraits of distinguished, mostly blond and grey- eyed, wizards and witches aligning the walls.

It was... nice.

Except the portraits wouldn't stop staring at him and whispering.

"Isn't it wonderful? Please do remember not to run around for future reference," Mrs Malfoy said, before catching his line of sight. "Ah... as you can see, this is the Malfoy's lineage, generations upon generations of great wizards and witches..." Her smile seemed to dim for a moment, before it came back full force. "Oh, Lucius dear, tell Orion a few!" she said warmly.

The Malfoy children suddenly looked put-off.

Mr Malfoy gave his wife a flat look.

She raised a delicate eyebrow.

His lips curled and he turned to Orion. "Hmm... I suppose. This is Armand Malfoy," he said briskly, pointing at one of the large portraits. It was a green-eyed, silver-haired, white-robed wizard sitting on a ornate chair with a crystal ball resting in his wrinkled palms. "Suffice to say, he is the roots. The first Malfoy to set foot on English soil..." A growing glint was growing in Mr Malfoy's eyes as he continued to speak.

"Here we go again," the girl - Viscaria - glumly murmured to herself.

"...And, his wife, Lady Rohesia, of the Gaunt lineage," he continued, briefly gesturing to a portrait of a red-haired witch with pale skin and a hooked nose. "Moving on to something a little more recent, Septimus Malfoy, the pinnacle of ambition... and recklessness." The blond wizard in the portrait with a strong, cleft-chin, chiseled features and brown eyes scowled.

Orion nodded politely.

At least he was learning new things, not revising that boring Black family tapestry for the millionth time. Honestly, his grandmother...

His grandmother...

He blinked, lowering his gaze.

"...And, this is my mother, Veloria Malfoy nee Rowle," Mr Malfoy continued, pointing to a portrait of a fair-skinned witch with severe cheekbones and in a black, uniform-looking robes. "She is quite famous for..."

Orion blinked. "Your mother, sir...?"

He hadn't even given a thought to, well, that.

"Yes, I believe I just said that." Orion blushed. "As I was saying. In her youth, she traveled the world. China. Egypt. Africa. South America for some reason. All around. She has recounted the many perils she faced." He rolled his eyes. "She claims she killed a Cerberus that was terrorizing some town in Greece..." He snorted. "...Tamed and rode a Dragon in China, fought against man-eating Lethifold in the tropics of Guinea or whatever..."

Orion stared, eyes widening at every word.

He couldn't help but imagine what that most have been like.

Flying free around the world with nobody to tell you what to do; just meeting people who you'd never have met otherwise and doing your own thing. If you wanted to save a village, save it. If you wanted to spend your days relaxing, do it. Veloria Malfoy must have had an amazing life - even if Walburga had called her a "arrogant, loose ditz" that one time...

But, Orion was sure she wasn't that bad if she did all that.

"...And, then there's my fa-" Mr Malfoy began, before he was interrupted by his wife.

Mrs Malfoy patted her husband on the shoulder. "Now, Lucius, we mustn't boast," she laughed musically, turning to look at Orion, Viscaria and Draco. "Let's continue the tour..."

And, so they did.

The Malfoys led him through an assortment of rooms with nice-looking furniture and decor, talking about nearly every one of them. These rugs were from Persia, Greece or Croatia! The sofa, imported from Italy! That hundreds of years old vase from, China, maybe? That was a gift from Mr Berrow, a friend! That was from Mrs Mustaq-Shafiq, very expensive! This was once owned by Musidora Barkwith, a musician.

Oh, and that one... where was that one from...? Greece? Italy? Bulgaria...? France...? It went on and on... to the point Orion was feeling pretty bored. And if that wasn't enough, there were tons of paintings to talk about. Mrs Malfoy had to practically whisk them away quite a few times before Mr Malfoy began to monologue about "Nicholas Malfoy" or "Brutus Malfoy" or "Vespira Malfoy" or etcetera, again...

Orion wasn't trying to sound ungrateful, but the Malfoys really seemed to have a talent for talking at length. And, he felt a little tired, now.

After going up the winding stairs with polished, redwood banisters and silver rails as well as checking out a few more lavish rooms here and there, they eventually arrived at a door with a silver plate ingrained on it. And, on that plate, was Orion's name. Yes, in fancy, scrawl was engraved 'Orion Black'.

A small smile spread across his face.

"As you may have guessed, this is your room," Mrs Malfoy said, giving him a kind, eager smile, as she practically shoved the door open to a very nice-looking room.

It was a very nice room. "This is my room...?" he said, surprised.

At Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, his room had always felt dead. Cobwebs had hung from the ceilings. The dark wallpaper was ripped and dulled with age. The musk of dampness, the mold growing at the corners and the dust; the room had once been majestic, but now there had been nothing left but chipped bookcases and crusty old books that fell apart at the seams.

"Yes, this is your room," Mrs Malfoy's soft voice came, rich with amusement.

The first thing to note: the room was bright. The deep, blue wallpaper had patterns of faint, crisscrossing tree branches tilting up for robins to perch on. Three large, diamond-shaped windows with silver curtains, the light coming through shinning on the dark, thoroughly polished floorboards.

There was a large, elaborately decorated, green rug in the middle of the room and a wardrobe off to the side, beside it stood a gold-framed mirror and further to the right a set of dark-wooden bookshelves hosting a fair number of books. Nearby to that, there was also a wooden chessboard with all the pieces already set up on a table with two chairs at either side. There was a Queen's bed towards the back, fluffed white pillows and a silvery quilt resting on it; beside the bed were two white nightstands, one with a yellow night-lamp and the other bare.

Orion felt a giddy smile curl on his lips because it was _really_ nice, the nicest room he'd ever seen. Very fitting.

"Glad you like it," Mrs Malfoy noted, giving an appraising smile. "Very fitting for a Black heir, wouldn't you say?" As she said this, Mr Malfoy made a sound that seemed like a snort.

"Now, Lucius and me were going to give you an even more extensive tour of our lovely home..." Orion fought a grimace. "...But, I know for a fact that you three are itching to get to know and play with each other. We'll show you around later, Orion." She gave them an encouraging smile. "Now, Mr Malfoy and I need to just make some final preparations... be _careful_ not to break anything."

Mrs Malfoy promptly swept out of the room and with a passing, scrutinising glance so did Mr Malfoy.

As soon as the door shut with a click, the girl - Viscaria - spoke. "So, you're going to be staying with us for a while...?" she said, folding her arms and looking him up and down like he was some sort of new toy.

Orion's lips dried. "Yes..."

She paused, before her face split in a grin. "Okay. So, _Orion_..." she began, putting a strange emphasis on his name for some reason. She paused. "Want to play dollhouse in my room...? You can play with Siwan the Kind _and_..." She continued as if it was some privilege. "...Malefeur the Wicked too." Orion raised an eyebrow. "Come on, I'll even let you kill Walda!"

Those seemed to just be characters ripped from Enchanted Encounters! He didn't want to be harsh, but did this girl have any imagination...?

Orion paused. "Um, that seems very-"

"Come on!" Draco whined, throwing his arms up. "Dolls are boring. You..." The blond boy pointed at Orion while Viscaria glared at her brother. "...Should play Kingdom with me. As King, I've already built a GIANT castle from blocks, and have servants who love me and you can be-"

"That's boring," Viscaria retorted.

"No, it isn't!" Draco yelled, stamping his foot on the ground and waving his arms about like a monkey.

Orion swallowed. "I'm really not-"

"Fine. Let's let Orion decide who he wants to go with," Viscaria huffed, folding her arms, and turning to face Orion with an imploring look. "But, Orion, pick me. We'll have much more fun than you'll have with a baby like Draco."

To be fair, Orion really didn't want to play with either of them.

No.

He wanted to. But, he didn't at the same time.

He didn't really know how, and he really didn't know what to say.

But, he said the first thing what first came to mind, for reasons he would never truly know. "Viscaria!" he blurted out, and the girl smile like it was a white Christmas. "I'll play with Viscaria..."

Seemingly not used to being beaten, Draco paused, reddened, huffed and stormed off in a fuss without another word.

"I knew you'd make the right choice," Viscaria said, smiling. "Come on, I'll show you where my room is."

* * *

If Orion found his own room impressive, Viscaria's was even more grand.

The walls were a lilac pink with an elegant, winding, white floral print. Windows were white-framed, diamond-shaped with violet, flowing curtains. The white fireplace had a pretty mantelpiece with entwined, majestic unicorns carved into it and, above it, a portrait of a Viscaria herself looking quite proud of herself in a frilly blue dress.

The door to her closet was a ajar, and through the gap Orion could see mountains of clothes hung up. She had an entire other room for her wardrobe. Next to the door, there was a golden-framed, white dressing table filled with an assortment of pink, ruby, purple bottles and vials, things like scissors, stray ribbons and combs on the small shelves on either-side of the large mirror.

There was also a lilac bookshelf filled to the brim with tons of colourful books.

The room also had a number of pretty, finely-made dolls of various sizes sitting about on shelves or the floor. There was a very large, white dollhouse that took up a corner of the room, with its purple roof and very fine looking windows, doors, patios and so forth it was a mini-mansion.

And, so, he'd played dolls with her for an hour.

Oh, and he killed Walda the doll.

When Mrs Malfoy had come across them, she had found them kneeling on the carpet, arguing over who won the battle of... well, they hadn't named it yet, but anything it was obvious that Orion had won and Viscaria was just trying to take credit.

"...No, Valora stabbed Malefeur first," Viscaria moaned, shaking the doll as if it emphasized her point.

Orion scoffed. "No, first, I got you first. Second, you have to yell 'stab' when you're stabbing," he retorted, folding his arms and giving her a defiant look. "If you don't say 'stab', it isn't a stab."

"That's stupid," Viscaria said, shaking her head.

"Those are your rules," Orion replied, raising an incredulous eyebrow.

Viscaria smirked. "Well, if they're my rules, I can change them," she said smartly, whacking Malefeur out of his hand and making it skid across the marble floor until it hit the far wall. "Hah, 'stab'."

"You're cheating!" Orion hissed, glaring at her furiously.

"No, I'm not," Viscaria snapped, looking offended. "I'm just improving the game."

"Right..." he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes and giving her a snide grin. "That makes no sense, you're a cheater."

"Right, blame me because you lost," Viscaria huffed, folding her arms and looking away from him with her nose raised in the air.

Orion gaped at her. This girl was infuriating.

Mrs Malfoy's chuckle broke their debate, making them look up. "Oh, you children keep me young," she laughed, shaking her head, and Orion almost demanded she tell Viscaria he had won before he thought better of it. "Sorry to cut your playtime short, but I have to get you ready for the dinner - it's a very important dinner and you need to look your best."

"Dinner?" asked Orion, surprised.

Mrs Malfoy slapped her hand against her forehead – well, if you could call it a slap. "Oh, silly me - I forgot," she sighed, shaking her head and giving Orion an apologetic smile. "I've just been so busy. I should have remembered." She bent down a little, to look him in the face better. "It's a really special occasion, isn't it? You're part of the family, and so we'll make you meet all the family we can get our hands on - so, we've organised a private dinner in your honour."

Something was in his honour...?

Orion had never had anything in his honour before.

He swallowed, his mouth feeling a little dry. "Really...?" he asked slowly, feeling his face heat up a little as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Um... thank you, Mrs Malfoy." Then, feeling it was appropriate, he gave a bow. "I'm honoured by your honouring... and this opport-opportunity."

Damn, he almost messed up the last word.

Viscaria giggled.

"I see..." Mrs Malfoy said, amused. "Well, Orion - I think you'll find us a little less stringent than your late grandmother. There's no need for you to bow all the time - that's a bit too old tradition for my tastes."

Orion felt his face heat up. "Sorry."

"For what? Being overly respectful...?" the blonde witch asked, raising a playful eyebrow. "No need to apologise for that. Just some advice; and we all need pointers once and while, don't we...? I'll start with you first Orion, follow me.."

Orion paused, before nodding and following her out the door.

* * *

Everyone was dressed to impress, and it felt like they'd been prepping for hours. Still, it was pretty exciting and new for Orion. There were never really any guests at Twelve Grimmauld Place.

To say the least, Mrs Malfoy was the most striking. The silver dress with an ethereal glow to it, her sparkling, see-through sleeves arching up pointedly like they were going to stab something. Her red lipstick and dark eye-shadow strangely it made her look more gaunt and harsh, especially with the paleness of her skin. Orion wasn't sure he liked it, but...

"There, how's that...?" She smiled, patting down her daughter's dress.

Viscaria looked annoyed. "It looks perfect, mum."

It was 'perfect' to the point Viscaria reminded him of one of her dolls. Her teal dress was frilly with a black sash around the middle, puffing out like a mushroom at the hem. Her shiny hair was tied in a bun pinned together by a long, silver, emerald-stoned hairpin.

Her mother paused thoughtfully. "You know, your ribbon looks a little slack... maybe if I...?"

Mrs Malfoy had spare no expense on Orion either. He was wearing a black tuxedo with green lapels and a white dress shirt with a grey bowtie that felt a little too tight. The black trousers had initially been too baggy, but she had shrunk them down with her wand.

"...Oops, sorry dear, let me just..."

Draco, who was fidgeting pretty badly when the adults weren't looking, was wearing green dress robes with a cowl collar, a collar which he was tugging at due to how tight it probably was.

"...Hmm... Oh! You'll look perfect if I..."

Orion almost jumped when he turned to find Mr Malfoy looking him right in the face.

He hadn't even noticed him enter the room!

There was a lengthy pause with just Mr Malfoy looking at him. The man looked even more grand in dress-robes. Silver lapel, an emerald ascot, silver shoes so well-polished if it hit the light at the right angle Orion bet they'd blind everyone.

The Malfoys never spared expense.

"Hmm..." Mr Malfoy gave him a facile smile. "I have taught my children well. They know the etiquette, the importance of their behaviour. I suppose you wouldn't know too much about that, would you boy?" The drawl was relaxed, measured and nonetheless as sharp as a knife. "That cave-witch hardly knows how to even use a fork, let alone raise a child," the man chuckled.

Mrs Malfoy gave him an exasperated look.

It didn't perturb the man, nothing probably did.

Orion blush almost red. "Yes, Mr Malfoy."

"You, you're all, representing this family at this dinner. Do not speak unless you're spoken to. Don't throw food at people..." Mr Malfoy gave Draco a hard look, who shrunk away. "...but instead eat it as a civilised being with your knife and fork. Do not make faces at the dinner table. Do not make random noises. Don't steal food from-"

"Yes, Lucius, I think they understand," Mrs Malfoy cut-in, giving him a forceful smile as she stepped away from Viscaria. "I expect they'll do great. No need to get pedantic."

Mr Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "'Pedantic'?"

Mrs Malfoy sighed. "Nevermind. I think it's time we do the last-minute checks to see if everything's in order," she said firmly. "Call me paranoid, but if the House-Elves haven't done their job up to the standards expected, there will be hell to pay.".

"I don't think they'd make that mistake twice," Mr Malfoy said ominously, and Orion was the only one who noticed Viscaria shudder a little. "I made sure their little brains could understand that... well the ones that are left."

"Well, as I said, call me paranoid. Let's just go," Mrs Malfoy said with some humour, as she began to walk towards the door with the click of her heels against the floor. "...Lucius?" she asked, pausing at the doorway and looking back at them.

"Behave," Mr Malfoy said, give Orion, Viscaria and Draco a sharp look that could stop a dragon in its path, before briskly following his wife out the door.

"Ugh, it is too tight..." Draco whinged loudly as soon as the door clicked shut, scowling as he tugged at the bow tightly wound around his neck.

Orion noticed that Viscaria and Draco seemed a little put-out. Which was strange, but Orion was a little too busy feeling giddy and nervous at meeting the rest of his family to think about it too much.

Orion breathed in.

He breathed out.

He could do this. He could do this.

"I'm ready," he reassured himself as firmly as he could under his breath.

Seemingly always smug, Viscaria turned to him with an amused, know-it-all smirk. "No, you're not..."

* * *

As everything else in the Malfoy Manor, the dining room was lavish.

The walls were a delicate, damask patterned green with white, dado paneling. The ceiling was very high, adorned with white, ornate marble as well as a grand chandelier hanging from it. Like most of the manor, there were paintings, some portraits of dignified witches and wizards, some of strutting peacocks or ones which had been stabbed, splatter or slashed with colourful paint for some reason.

The table was grandiose.

The Malfoys didn't seem to do simple. And, he kind of liked that.

Blanketed by a sleek, dark green tablecloth with a shiny, silvery trim. A candle poised at the table's centre; two vases filled with fat-looking flowers were set apart at each side of the table, their scent clinging to the air like a starved man. Standing on spiraling stems, fine glass goblets engraved with fruiting vines and little wasps were set on the table.

Perfection at its finest hour.

But, it was disquieting. You could cut the air with a knife.

The dinner had started with a few polite, surprisingly terse greetings as everyone dipped of their finger bowls (as if they hadn't thoroughly washed and re-washed their hands a little ago), they finally began to tuck in.

Naturally, the food that had appeared on the table was some of the best Orion had seen in his life. Succulent, roast beef steamed on a silver, floral plate. There was a large, meaty pie. Shepard's pie. Venison. Chicken. Turkey. Smoked salmon. Lobster. Various salads. More. All immaculate. All ensnaring the nose, and making Orion want to just lick his lips and scoff it all down.

Orion's great grandfather, Arcturus Black - or to be more appropriate, Lord Black - was the grey-white haired wizard sitting at the foot of the table with a rather strong posture. Flint, green eyes jumped from his wizened-lined face like a swinging punch as they flickered. Too make himself look even less approachable, Lord Black had opted for traditional-looking, deeply black dress-robe with gold ruffles and cuff-links.

To say the man made him nervous was an understatement.

The fact he kept looking over Orion with distaste didn't help.

"Thank you for having us, Narcissa," Lady Black spoke graciously while her husband remained coldly silent, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "The food is impeccable and... very distinct in a good way."

Sitting beside her husband, Lady Black was a contrast. Her face was etched with wrinkle as well, but iced with a kindly softness, and had an aquiline nose that almost stuck out like a beak from a nest. Her wavy, auburn hair was tied back in a chignon. Her dark purple dress robes were embroidered with delicate brocade and her violet, puffy sleeves were translucent and tied together at each wrist by purple bows.

Mrs Malfoy smiled at the compliment. "Thank you. It's the least we could do, Melania..." she said warmly, carefully cutting a bit of beef on her plate. "Orion needed to meet his family..." She chuckled, almost musically. "...And, you absolutely needed to taste these new recipes I've practically had Elves toiling all night to make perfect."

"All night?" Ms Black asked, silkily, as she chewed on a piece of chicken. "Oh shame. Perhaps the chicken would taste less dry if you'd given them at least the month?" She shrugged her shoulders, her thin red lines of lips spreading into a smug smile. "...As is the par with low standards and inexperienced upstarts, I suppose."

Orion's brow creased.

What was that even for...?

Orion's great aunt, Cassiopeia Black, had practically been emanating hostility since she got there. She was the black-haired witch with the monstrous beehive, dark, sleekly form-fitting dress robes with a gleaming red belt - which sort of reminded Orion of a uniform - and, the habit of tapping her sharp nails against the table cloth.

Mrs Malfoy frowned.

And, others weren't particularly happy with the bluntness either.

Then, Lady Black gave the dark-haired witch a cold glance before turning to Mrs Malfoy with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Cassiopeia's a bit of a joker," she laughed, shaking her head, sliding a placating hand on Mrs Malfoy's. "The food's lovely, Narcissa."

Lord Malfoy coughed, drawing a few eyes.

The patriarch of the Malfoy family was sitting at the head of the table. He was blond, but greying, long-haired man with a receding hairline and a pointed face that was a map of deep lines and creases, with clear grey eyes that occasionally flickered to the gold pocket watch chained to his waistcoat. His pine-striped, three-piece suit was dull grey and green striped.

And, his wife, the very praised Veloria Malfoy was poised to his right was in an emerald, glittering gown and looked very much like her portrait.

"I should think so..." Mrs Malfoy said simply, giving Lady Black a kind smile and then giving Ms Black a more facile one.

She said nothing more.

And, despite a taint of bitterness, the dinner had resumed an more amiable atmosphere, kind of.

Then, Lord Black cleared his throat. "So, Orion, is it...? Sorry, I can't tell due to the glorified rags." His voice was deep, sharp voice, making Orion nearly jump. Mrs Malfoy and Mr Malfoy exchanged glances, as did some other members of the table. "How are you adjusting to the Malfoys?"

Eyes widening a fraction, Orion restrained the urge to bite his lip. "Um, yes, it's great. Everything's really great, sir," Orion said politely, his throat feeling dry as desert as all those eyes saw through him. "Everything. Everything... everyone is nice... sir," he stumbled, taking a big sip of juice from his goblet. He paused. "Everything is..."

Orion felt like an idiot, again.

"'Everything'?" Ms Black pitched in, smiling widely, and raising a carefully-manicured eyebrow

Orion paused, wondering what to say before he smiled at a thought. "Viscaria and me played dolls!" he said brightly, figuring that telling them on how 'well' he and Viscaria got on would stop their questions. "It was really fun."

There was a pause.

"'Dolls'?" Ms Black asked, giving him a strange look. "Really...? You've only been here a few hours..." She broke off and it look like she was choking on something.

"Yes..." Orion didn't like how everyone was looking at him.

Even Mrs Malfoy looked a little apprehensive. And, Mr Malfoy looked kind of irritated.

The Head of the Black family had an amused look on his wrinkled face. "Do you...?" he reiterated the black-haired witch's question, steepling his fingers together and leaning forward on the table much to Mrs Malfoy's chagrin. "Did you play with dolls...?"

Orion nodded, his lips thinning. "Yes..."

A harsh laugh burst from Ms Black's throat.

Lord Black quirked a wispy eyebrow, his eyes switched back and forth between Mr Malfoy and Orion, before giving a stray glance towards Mrs Malfoy and then settling on Orion, again. "And, was it just you playing with Viscaria...? Or, does Draco play too...?" he asked with a bit of mirth, and Mr Malfoy practically choked on his roast beef. "...Mr Malfoy, are you okay?"

Mr Malfoy swallowed it down, giving the man a hard stare. "I'm fine, Mr Black," he drawled, quite dryly, with a tight smile. "No need to worry yourself."

"Well, good. Now that Lucius' traditional dramatics are out the way, let's get back to your interesting parenting methods, shall we?" Ms Black asked, leaning over the table with her chin resting on her hand with a grin-like smile on her face. "Will Orion be wearing a dress next time we see him. Or, is that Draco's fancy...?"

Mrs Malfoy gave a condescending smile "Oh dear, Cassiopeia... I believe you must be very confused-"

"Yes, I am. I bet I'll be even more confused about the gender of your children and ward in the coming months," the dark-haired witch interrupted without missing a beat. "Oh Merlin, I do wonder how you'll tell the little gremlins of yours, Viscaria and Draco, apart the most-?"

"Confused. Very confused," Mrs Malfoy nearly hissed through gritted teeth. "Not surprising, you've never had the privilege of having children." Ms Black scowled, opening her mouth to speak but was swiftly cut off. "So, I'll explain. Children are children. Orion was playing with Viscaria because Viscaria plays with dolls and Orion was kind enough to play along; to get to know her, his family, as you will."

Orion noticed Lady Black bristle while her husband just made an "hmm" sound as he sipped some more of his drink.

If looks could kill, this place would be a morgue. But, Ms Black kept silent for once.

Mr Malfoy smiled. "I assure you we're doing our best. We decided to do that when we could do nothing but take him in," he drawled, and his smile broadened as the elderly Blacks bristled. "But, that should be the Malfoy motto: 'blood is thicker than water'." He smirked. "We look after our own. And, Orion is happy here, aren't you, Orion?..."

Orion nodded. "I'm just glad someone took me in."

"How very kind..." Lady Black said hesitantly.

"Yes, very kind of you," her husband said, his tone brisk. "We Blacks always look after our worthy own." He fixed Orion with an imploring look. "You're a worthy Black, Orion. I'm sure." Orion felt heat rise in his cheeks. "You mustn't think we didn't want you..."

Lady Malfoy snorted. "Right..."

Lord Black didn't miss a beat. "...We wanted you. But, unfortunately there were some complications..." the man continued, and his voice had that hypnotic quality - that calmness, as if you were being drawn into a really good book. "And, we couldn't..."

"That's a shame..." Lady Malfoy spoke in a sharp voice that cut through the dinning room. "I've heard of how hard you tried. Yet, you tried hardest when the Malfoys took custody instead of when Orion was first put on the market - what?" She smiled inquisitively. "Didn't want to be outdone, as always?"

Mrs Malfoy exchanged an uneasy look with her husband.

Lord Black silently turned to look at Lady Malfoy with a cold look in his eyes. "Veloria... spreading wicked rumours, already?" the man said coldly. "I'd have thought you'd grown out of that by now after all these years."

Lady Malfoy smiled and it wasn't a nice smile. "Are you going to practically growl 'it's not true!' in my face like the last time we met?" she asked, taking a sip of her wine and giving him a mocking look. "Go ahead. I find denial strangely amusing."

"I'm not here to gossip about the past, I'm here to discuss Orion's future," Lord Black stated coldly, giving her a sour look. "What I'm saying, in simple terms, is that the Black heir-"

"Ohhh... only you would think of nothing but the future, Arcturus," Lady Malfoy laughed, shaking her head. "The past is too painful." She gave him a cat-like grin that didn't fit on such a severe face. "Do you think that I would let your family raise the child...?" she spat. "You're rotting corpse more deserving of a shitty morgue than the sanctity of parenthood."

There were many gasps and exclamations.

Orion was so flat-out shocked he couldn't even remember if he was still alive.

"You dare? You old whore-!" Ms Black almost screeched.

"Veloria-?"

"Oh, mother, for-"

"Hold your tongue...!" Lord Black cold voice cut through all others.

Lady Malfoy didn't seem to care. "Oh, but face it. I'm just an old friend telling you hard truths, aren't I? Like how you've failed so many people in your life, Arcturus, and, as long as you breath, you will fail more." Her smile became warmer. "It's sad, really..." She smiled smugly. "But, the Black heir will be safer with us not you."

Lord Black gave her a deathly look that could kill.

Lady Black looked a mixture between wanting to throw something or chug down a few bottles of alcohol.

Ms Black was the first Black to speak and slam her fists into the table. "Oh, how dare you-!"

"'How dare I'?" Lady Malfoy asked, pressing a hand to her chest in mock-hurt. "Amazing. I've never know a harlot could be so self-righteous." Everyone was speechless, except Lord Malfoy, who looked quite a ease. "Now, you know I've never quite liked these subtle games. The only reason that I even agreed to this silly little get-together my son and daughter-in-law organised was so I could tell you it straight: don't get any funny ideas, because one-toe-out of mine and you'll realise why the Order of Merlin accepted me for my talents and not for my gold." She threw a disapproving glance at Lord Black. "Now, any questions or are we quite clear...?"

There was silence.

Mr Malfoy and Mrs Malfoy looked rather miffed.

And, the Black family seemed to be in a stunned fury.

Mrs Malfoy stood up. "I think we should... we should not keep the children here for too long," she said, looking very unsure, as she attempted to awkwardly usher the children away. "I think it's nearly their bedtime, in fact-"

"Nonsense, they haven't even had dessert," Lady Malfoy waved her hand dismissively, shaking her head.

Mrs Malfoy sighed, sitting back down.

Lord Black narrowed his eyes. "You will regret this."

"Threats, Arcturus? Really...?" Lady Malfoy said, raising an eyebrow. "You forget, I know you. Remember when we played by that old willow tree on the mount? Such fleeting good times. Me, you, Lycoris and that girl... oh, what was her name...?" She tapped her chin, looking thoughtfully. "...Lucy, ri-i-ght...?" Arcturus eyes became colder. "Sweet like green apples. Now, if one loved her like that... well, you'd know better than me, right?"

Lady Black threw Lord Black a suspicious look.

"Dead wrong and off-point as usual," Lord Black growled, standing up from his chair and throwing his napkin on the table. "We're leaving. No point in wasting time here."

And, Lord, Lady and Ms Black practically left without even sparing much of a glance.

Well, Ms Black did give a goodbye...

"I hope you Malfoy burn in hell!"

But, soon enough, the door was slammed shut and you could see them storming down towards the gate through the ornate, overarching windows of the dinning room.

Orion just stared as they apparated away, one by one.

What the hell had just happened...?

Most of the remaining people seemed to be on the same train of thought with how deathly silent it was.

Well, 'most' being the key word there...

"I think that went rather well..."

And, Lady and Lord Malfoy raised their goblets and toasted with a resounding chink.

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**AN: I know this chapter may come off as very wordy, but I really wanted to explore the ridiculous extravagance of the Malfoy's lifestyle at least for the start of the story. Also, this world differs a little in some obvious ways and some subtle ways - there's a reason why I refer to the clothes as "suits" and "tux" instead of Dress-robes.**

**Review and tell me what you think!**


	4. Chapter 3: Ward's Life

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

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**Chapter 3: Ward's Life**

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**8th October, 1985**

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It was deathly silent.

Lady and Lord Malfoys' goblets chinked together. The sound rung in everyone's ears, echoing around the room. Orion broke from his stupor, moving his stunned gaze from the door that had been slammed shut to the elderly couple, his gaze dragging over everyone in the room.

Mrs Malfoy was like stone. Her eyes stared hard over everyone's heads and he was sure if either Lord or Lady Malfoy blinked, it would be their last day. Thankfully for them, their eyes were wide open, alight with glee and smugness. Meanwhile, Draco was glancing about, looking confused, probably thinking: was a good thing or a bad thing? The boy looked unsure. Viscaria gave him pause, there was nothing in her expression, yet Orion still swore there was the slightest upwards curl of her lip.

Mr Malfoy, well...

...It was Mr Malfoy who let loose a hiss, breaking the silence. "Really, really... you just couldn't help yourselves?" His lip curled unpleasantly, before containing his voice in a drawl. It was like he was the disapproving parent. "Was that really necessary... mother?" he said calmly, eyes narrowing.

If possible Lady Malfoy's eyes grew smugger, as she set her goblet down on the table. "More necessary than you could even think, Lucius." A wrinkled smiled creased her face, her decrepit finger tracing the rim of her goblet.

"Care to elaborate on that...?" Mr Malfoy drawled, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. The witch paused, but no matter how many times her son's fingers tapped the table, she gave no answer. "...Ah, nothing? Should I just put this down to you getting on in your years, age dulling your mind so to speak?"

Wow. Orion mouth was agape. Did Mr Malfoy really just say that? If Orion had said that to his own grandmother, he'd be dead and that it would not be through the easy way.

The elderly witch grinned. "Yes, it was... I've been waiting decades to see 'that expression' on Arcturus' face." She laughed, almost cackled. "...And his family, or their leftovers, there? That was just the icing on the cake. I think it's time we break out our best wine!"

Orion winced.

He was 'right there', Merlin!

Mr Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "So, what you're saying is you...?" He paused as if grasping for the right words. "You wanted petty revenge for something or another that happened Merlin knows when and something that nobody cares about? Is that it, one of your old grudges, mother?" he said, looking at her like she was an idiot.

The Malfoy matriarch frowned. "Don't put words in my mouth. It's terribly common," she said derisively, before sharply turning to her husband with a smile curling on her lip. "Terribly common, wouldn't you say, Abraxas?" she reiterated.

Lord Malfoy nodded slightly. "We raised him better," he said firmly, pouring himself another drink.

"I'd ask you what you hoped to accomplish by doing this, but I've heard most elderly people regress to children by your age." Lady Malfoy looked at him dryly, but all Mr Malfoy did was lean back in his chair and continue. "I'd get a better answer out a two year old... unless you've finished playing games?"

"Narcissa, would you be a darling and kindly take Viscaria and Draco to the other room to finish their dessert?" the elderly witch said, sweetly do the point it sounded almost as if she'd be handing out sweets and cookies next. "Leave Orion." Her voice had suddenly turned sharp.

Orion's stomach dropped, gripping his fork tighter. Oh great.

To make things worse, all eyes were on him.

"...R-i-ight..." Mr Malfoy drawled, stretching out each syllable. "Why, exactly, mother...?"

Suddenly, Mrs Malfoy jerkily folded her napkin, almost slamming it on the table and definitely grabbing everyone's attention. "Indeed, why?" Her voice was clear and sharply. She stared at her mother-in-law, a moment passed between them. "...No, don't be ridiculous. He's just a boy, Veloria. You can't..." she trailed off, her silence speaking more than her words.

The matriarch looked very serious. "Not if Arcturus has his way. That man..." She snorted, turning her gaze to Orion. "...Hmm, besides... what is the point of coddling him?" She smiled and Orion's face heated up. "I have a feeling this boy is a little smarter than we think he is."

As everyone turned to look at him again, Orion went red. It may have been odd, but being called 'smart' like that... it was like butterflies in his stomach. And, everyone was looking at him again.

Even Mr Malfoy. Mr Malfoy was staring at him, really staring at him. It was uncomfortable. "All I see in that face is an idiot," Mr Malfoy said, and Orion flinched because that really hurt, but there was resigned tone in his voice. "Fine... Very well," he finally said, waving his hand dismissively.

Mrs Malfoy snapped her head around to face Mr Malfoy, so fast that Orion was afraid she'd strain her neck. "Lucius-!"

Scowling, Lady Malfoy interrupted. "Narcissa, think of your children." She gestured to the two silent observers. "You know for a fact when I get talking, I just can't stop myself, remember...? I'm just a chatterbox. Best get them out before I say something their young ears won't unhear."

Mrs Malfoy coldly stared at her.

The elderly witch looked back with the same severity.

It was a battle of wills and no else would fight but them. The two witches were just silent, trying to burn a hole in each other's heads with their eyes and Orion wondered if they could.

No announcement was made, but Mrs Malfoy stood up silently. She looked at her children, sharply gesturing for them to follow as she began to leave the room. They both did so, Draco quietly while Viscaria pushed her chair out, the legs screeching against the floor, as she stood up with an almost huff and did as instructed

Lord Malfoy looked amused.

As soon as the ornate doors clicked shut, Lady Malfoy spoke "Orion Black..." There was a warm smile, it didn't reach her eyes, those were too busy scrutinizing him. "To think I'd see the day..." Orion bit his lip. "Well, come on, there's no need to stop eating... A boy needs his treats," she said, smiling and it was genuine.

Mr Malfoy looked at his mother blithely.

Orion's blinked twice. "...Oh..." He just stared at her like an idiot.

There was a moment of silence.

"Well, go on, finish your food," Lady Malfoy said, gesturing to his half-eaten cake.

Orion blinked, looking down at his cake. Pausing awkwardly, he picked up his fork and lowering his head a little, he began to dig in in silence, his teeth chattering as he jerkily took each bite. After a few moments, he hastily dabbed his lips off crumbs with a napkin, his clammy hands almost dropping it.

They were still looking at him.

"Umm... why am I here?" he said hesitantly, twiddling his thumbs under the table.

She was strangely amused, pointing her bony finger at him. "Hmm, now, I remember that. It looks like you've picked up bad habits." His brow creased in confusion.

"Mother, can you give the estimated time before we arrive at the point?" Mr Malfoy said dryly, taking a long sip from his goblet.

Orion frowned. Why was Mr Malfoy be so... rude to his mother? The wizard hadn't struck him as discourteous when he'd first met him... Unless... Mr Malfoy had a very good reason. Orion thought of all the things he'd wanted to say to Walburga, all the things he was too weak to say, it could be that Mr Malfoy was just stronger...? He didn't know and it reminded him of a sobering fact that he didn't know these people.

They were strangers.

How could he trust anything about them?

"Lucius, she was getting to the point," Lord Malfoy admonished, his voice slow and dry. "...Veloria, please," he said, giving an encouraging gesture.

Her smile was sweet as she looked at him. "I knew your parents, Orion." She just outright said it. Orion felt his entire being shake, shock coursing through his brain. "Did your grandmother even tell you what happened to them...?" she said, amused at his agape mouth.

Orion couldn't think. "She said they died..."

Mr Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Let me guess. She said they were killed by Muggles or Blood-traitors, right?" Orion was couldn't do anything but nod. "That was always her default excuse."

Lord Malfoy snorted.

However, Lady Malfoy remained solemn. "She lied to you, Orion..." Her eyes were sympathetic, her lips were grimacing and way the wrinkles deepened in her face told him to trust her. "Your grandmother lied to you, Orion," she said and it made so much sense.

His head snapped, his brow creasing and Orion said, "What?" His mouth was tripping over itself. "A-are you saying they're alive? Can I see them?" he blurted out, eyes widening to the world, he was shaking.

There was a pause.

His heart sank at their expressions. He wanted to disappear.

"...Orion, your father once served a very powerful man, did you know that...?" she said softly and Orion shook his head. It was the first he heard of it. "A great man that made the parasites of this decaying society wet their beds and shrivel under his justice, his benign cause. He was punished for it, sent to Azkaban, all because our corrupt government, all because a regime that favours Mudbloods over a wizard fighting to make the world a better place."

Azkaban.

He couldn't... he couldn't...

He breathed. "C-Can I see him...?" he said quietly, picking up an red apple.

She shook her head. "No. They would not allow, especially with how young you are." She gave him a kind smile. "Children aren't allowed to visit Azkaban. Maybe when you're older...?"

"Yes, he did." She chuckled for a bit, but it stopped short and her face turned grave. "And do you know who this great man was...? The one your father served faithfully and sacrificed for?" She smiled a smile that made Orion shiver, not knowing what to say. "Hmm...? Do you even know who the 'parasites' in this story were and are... Orion?" she said.

Orion tried to answer, it was useless. "...Um... uh, well..." His mouth went dry, he couldn't even stammer and all he could do is turn red as all their eyes bore into him. "I-" He coughed, hoping someone would save him.

Mr Malfoy offered no help.

Lord Malfoy looked at him dryly. "Speak up." Which didn't help.

Lady Malfoy chuckled. "Didn't your grandmother teach you how to speak properly? Too busy beating you with slippers?" Orion's face reddened. "Wouldn't surprise me. Walburga takes after her mother and never did a more horrid, insipid woman ever bumble about." Orion winced. "In fact, when Irma Crabbe took ill with the Dragon Pox, it felt like the whole world was celebrating. They suffered quite the hangover and for naught as, worse yet, Irma recovered..."

Lord Malfoy nodded, grimacing. "Perhaps, something else?"

"...But, I'm getting off track. Tell me, Orion, what did the Dark Lord fight against?" she said, giving him a searching look.

Orion let out a breath, raising his hand a little and gathering up the courage to speak...

"...Come on, boy. It's not exactly Arithmancy," Mr Malfoy remarked.

Orion felt like he'd been slapped. "M-Muggles and blood-traitors...?" They were still looking at him expectantly. "...And beastly creatures that don't know their place... ma'am?"

"Very good," Lady Malfoy praised, making him smile weakly. "Disgusting people. I wouldn't put it past them to snatch you in the night..." Orion cringed. "...But, all would have bent a knee or were destroyed to him, ensuring they'd never harm true wizards and witches ever again... Of course, I trust you know what true Wizards and witches are, correct?" She raised an eyebrow.

He nodded quickly. "Us... us pure-bloods, ma'am."

"Yes, us pure-bloods," she repeated, her smile widening. "I see you've inherited your... father's brains." Mr Malfoy snorted for some reason. "Your father served a noble man as his right-hand, anyone will tell you that..." She paused, giving him an earnest look. "Your father served the Dark Lord and I'm sure you know who that was...?"

Orion nodded again, more hesitantly. "...Yes."

He knew of the Dark Lord.

Everyone did.

Walburga... his grandmother had spoken of him, not too often, but it still left an impression. The Dark Lord, the wizard who had fought for a better world. The smile on her face, only the Dark Lord and his dead uncle brought that kind of smile out, if only briefly to stay back the rage and grief.

He swallowed sadly.

That smile... it struck him. It was strange, it made his chest twist and his head ached. If his father... if his father served the Dark Lord... why would Walburga hate him so much? He felt cold, he was being silly, but...

Mr Malfoy cleared his throat. "Ah, is this necessary-?"

Lady Malfoy gave her son a dismissive look. "I think this boy would appreciate some honesty in his life, don't you agree...? This boy deserves to know why, and I will tell him." She turned back to Orion, smiling sadly. "Unfortunate as it may be, the Dark Lord fell - and don't believe that poppycock about it being Harry Potter the wonder tyke. No one year old could do that... but a smart boy like you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Orion lied and she gave him an amused smile.

"That's good. Many idiots believe that ridiculous farce far too easily."

Mr Malfoy decided to pitch in, a gleam in his eyes. "I quite prefer the theory that Harry Potter is secretly a budding Dark wizard."

The Malfoy Matriarch rolled her eyes. "Of course, dear," she said dismissively. "_I_ suspect Dumbledore and his boot-lickers set a devious trap for the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord made a rare mistake; which is all it requires to turn everything to ruin. That night ended with the Dark Lord dying... and your father didn't even get a trial," she said, smiling sadly.

A question popped into his head, one that had been bubbling under surface. "Why...?" He tried to ask politely; it came out harsh and guttural. "Why is he still there...?" He gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. "He's a Black..." He glared at them, he shouldn't but he did.

She sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know child, I don't know. All I do know, is that your father was slandered - named a murderer, a killer, when all he was trying to do was save the Wizarding World... I don't have much sway on Wizengamot these days. I couldn't do a thing but watch and make a little noise..."

Mr Malfoy poured himself another goblet, raising it an inch to his lips. "How unfortunate. Maybe you should slip them all cookies to get in their good graces, again?"

"...As I was saying." She glared at her son, before continuing. "I may not have much sway in Ministry, especially the Wizengamot, but your great grandfather does. I never understood why he didn't try harder," She looked down and Orion did too. "...Then again, he was never a family man, it's always the name that matters more to him. We never got on as children for that."

Orion frowned. "I see... ma'am." There was a niggling feeling, he wasn't quite sure he should accept all of what she said, but... it sounded so believable. He could feel the truth of it. It seemed to click into place, but pieces were missing. He wasn't sure if that was by accident or not. Maybe he should press, ask more questions... did he have a right?

He opened his mouth.

"Is that quite enough...?" Mrs Malfoy interrupted, her voice nearly made Orion jump. She was walking around the table towards them, looking each of them over with displeased eyes. "Anyhow, Viscaria and Draco have finished desert and have been put to bed," she said, not sitting down with them but standing awkwardly near her husband.

Orion's stomach grumbled.

He was still hungry and he hadn't even touch the rest of his dessert.

Lady Malfoy gave a apologetic smile, one with the teeth of the shark. "Sorry, Narcissa. You know how I get carried away." She laughed almost musically, sparing Orion a strange glance, before shaking her head.

Mrs Malfoy didn't seem very placated, stepping closer. "...Orion, are you all right?"

'Alright' was such a strong word. To tell the truth, Orion felt like his head was going to exploded, but he nodded. "...Fine, ma'am. Sorry, just a bit tired," he lied, even though his blood was racing.

Mrs Malfoy turned to her husband and parents-in-law with a stern expression. "Look at the poor boy. He's already had a lot to take in as it is and you're dumping this mountain on him already...? I think the boy needs his rest."

Orion almost smiled. Now, that seemed like a good idea - at least it would get him out of the chair he was sweltering in.

"Nonsense," Lady Malfoy dismissed, almost laughed. "I'm quite sure he can stay up a little longer, dear..." Mrs Malfoy eye twitched and lips pursed, looking affronted. "...Isn't that right, Orion?"

Orion paused, before opening his mouth-

"Are you sure... Veloria?" Mrs Malfoy interjected, a questioning smile plastered on her face.

Mr Malfoy threw his wife a sharp look.

"I'm quite sure, Narcissa. No need to worry about anything," the Malfoy Matriarch said, smiling back. "Isn't that right, Orion...?" She tutted, glancing towards him. "Nothing to worry about?"

Mr Malfoy sighed.

"Is that right? I do apologise... I may have drunken a tad too much... because I swear my name is on the adoption papers and not yours?" Mrs Malfoy said, raising an eyebrow, causing her mother-in-law to blink. "Oh. Wait. I'm not the one who has been drinking..." She beckoned Orion to his feet, and before he could even think she started to lead him away.

"Narcissa..." her husband warned, standing half-up from his chair.

"Lucius, I do believe that my dear cousin and our ward ought to have his rest after such a long day. Like all my children. Nine O'clock sharp," she said calmly, stopping at the threshold of the door, her grip on Orion's shoulder tightening almost painfully. "Goodnight."

Lady Malfoy's eyes narrowed into slits.

Lord Malfoy had curious look on his face.

And with that Orion was practically pushed out the door, Mrs Malfoy leading him down the corridor, her hand sliding from his shoulder to his hand. She gripped it tightly, almost smiling.

He opened his mouth to speak.

She shushed him.

Before he knew it, she had practically dragged him all the way to his new bedroom. There was a pile of blue-stripped pyjamas neatly folded on his bed.

Mrs Malfoy smiled kindly. "Put those on. There's a dresser."

Orion did as he was told and soon enough he was in all blue. The problem was that they were too baggy, he looked like he was being swallowed by a pond, a pond of... a loose-fitting jacket and trousers, if that made sense?

"Reducio," Mrs Malfoy said, waving a wand that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

He flinched, eyes widening at the sudden attack. But, there was only a tingling sensation, one he could not describe and he saw the clothes he was wearing go down two sizes before his eyes.

Wicked.

Mrs Malfoy was amused, but didn't let him remain gawping for long. Soon enough he was trapped underneath the tightly wound covers of his bed. Mrs Malfoy smiling at him as she stroked his forehead.

"You've had quite the day," she remarked idly, patting down his cover. "Are you alright...?"

Orion frowned, before pushing up a weak smile. "I'm fine, Mrs Malfoy," he said, trying to look into her eyes but his eyes kept sliding away no matter how hard he tried. "It's nothing... I-I'm really grateful you took me in."

Mrs Malfoy paused. "...Yes," she said hesitantly, and Orion feared he'd said something wrong. Her lips pursed, and the silence grew unbearable. Orion opened his mouth to apologies, but she spoke first. "How are you really...? You've been through a terrible ordeal..."

"I'm fine..." Orion said, shifting slightly.

He really didn't want to talk about this. Everyone wanted to talk about it. Those people who took him from Grimmauld Place. Those Healers who had checked up on him. Why couldn't people just leave it alone and let him forget...?

Mrs Malfoy looked away, re-patting the already smooth duvet. "Right..." she replied stiffly, and silence followed again. Her lips pursed, and then it was as if her face just snapped to face him with a strange, hard look. "Orion, promise me something, will you...?" Orion nodded; then, she shook her head and raised a dismissive hand. "No, no, it doesn't matter."

He stared, confused. "Okay..."

There was a pause, before Mrs Malfoy let out a sigh. "No, it does. Orion... remember that no matter what... you deserve happiness... you deserve a good family..." Orion blinked as she seemed to struggle a little. "You deserve love. And, no one should be able to take that away from you, not ever..."

There was silence.

He was frankly speechless.

"Um... Y-Yes..." he stammered, blushing as his voice wavered. With an encouraging look from Mrs Malfoy, he repeated it with more confidence. "Yes. Yes."

She smiled. "You're a good boy, Orion," she said, patting his head. "Do you want me to read you a story...?"

Little by little Orion grinned. "Yes..."

* * *

**1st November, 1985**

* * *

The room wasn't terribly big and it wasn't terribly small either.

The walls were paneled with a deep blue. The ceiling slopped to the side, as they were practically almost in the attic area. The white, wooden floors was polished like all floors in the Malfoy manor, but the colour made it shine in the light of the large, open window which looked out onto the vast gardens, that look like mint ice-cream dotted with sprinkles of hundreds-and-thousands from up here.

Okay, now he was just making himself hungry.

Maybe he could get Mrs Malfoy to make the House Elves make him some more of that ice-cream stuff?

He and Viscaria sat at desks spaced less than a metre apart. Each desk had a holster for fountain pens, a few coloured crayon, and etc. A few sheets of paper. And, a medium-sized book called, in fine print, the Sacred Twenty-Eight by Cantankerous Nott.

There was a very neat, mahogany desk in the corner. At the very front of the room was a black board, a little near the door, with some white chalk eloquently scrawled on it.

And, there was their nanny Olinda Galster.

Miss Galster was from Germany even though her words were fluent, her voice very measured and her accent so smooth and bland it barely really existed. She was rather unremarkable with her pointy thick-rimmed glasses that were too big for her thin, pasty face, a face that was framed short, mousy-brown hair and had brown eyes. Her clothes were rather colourless as well.

She made up for it with a lot of heart.

It was time for one of her lectures. And as always they hung off her every word.

"…The most important thing in life is blood. With the blood that flows through your veins, you can achieve anything you want," Miss Galster said, her kind eyes on them both. "And, as long you do not forsake your blood, as long as you don't betray it, the world is yours for the taking…"

Viscaria smiled.

Orion grinned.

That was little price to pay.

She told them all sorts of interesting things. Like how 'lucky' they were and the way she said it was so assured, it made Orion believe it. After all, it was true that blood flowing through their veins was pure, uncontaminated. Miss Galster had once likened it to fine wine, getting better with every generation, joking 'let's hope someone doesn't pop the bottle and drink you up!' and it hadn't really been funny, but they'd laughed too.

Viscaria smiled, standing up and answering he hadn't heard. "Decorum, Miss. You must find grace in the situation. Act as your blood demands."

Miss Galster smiled, nodding. "Yes, correct," she praised, and the blonde girl smiled brightly. "But, all you've said are words..." Viscaria frowned. "...Which is fine as long as you know what they mean... Do you both... Orion?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Uhh... it means that the good of the family is real important and you should respect your ancestors..." Orion said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not disgrace this family, but uphold its image and make it proud."

Viscaria gave him an encouraging smile.

Miss Galster nodded. "Work on your presentation a little, but, besides that, good work." Orion grinned, feeling proud. "But, it's about your family. It's about the world we live in... Yes, as Cantankerous Nott says in Sacred Twenty-Eight, 'the heart of the Wizarding World is the family, and if the family is pure and true then the Wizarding World will follow suit'."

He frowned.

Right, family was really important, as she said. But in all honestly Orion didn't know where his began and where it ended, exactly.

Both the Malfoys and the Blacks shared blood, but were the Black truly more his family just because they also shared a name? The Malfoys had actually took the effort to take him in when his grandmother died and he felt more for them than... well... his _family-family_. It was questions like these his mind kept getting back to - did he belong? He barely looked like them and he didn't really act like them - they were graceful, extravagant and poised all at the same time.

Orion noticed Viscaria was giving him a weird, side-ways glance. He refocused on the lecture.

Soon enough, Miss Galster let them go free, telling them they were expected in the Drawing room after they changed into a pair of clothes Mrs Malfoy had laid out for them in their rooms.

"I've always wondered what's up those stairs...?" Viscaria commented, idly, walking past an alcove that led up some winding stairs to the attic. "...The doors always locked. And, mummy and daddy say it's none of my business, basically."

Orion frowned.

"Yeah..."

Adults and locked doors were two sides of the same coin.

His grandmother had had all sorts of rooms in Grimmauld Place locked. It was like burrowing through Chinese boxes trying to figure and remember what rooms he was allowed to go into and which were strictly forbidden on pain of punishment.

He'd often see his grandmother walking up the stairs, the bronze, silver, brass and gold keys jingling on the key-chain she wrung constantly between her sharp fingers. Orion had always wondered what she was doing up there.

There was the single thud of a foot stopping a step. "Are you all right?" Viscaria asked, giving him a weird look, awkwardly perched the first step of the stairs to the lower levels. "You keep getting that weird look on your face."

"I'm fine," Orion said quickly, brow creasing, and feeling rather apprehensive.

Viscaria just shrugged, and continued down the stairs.

Without sparing a glance, he did the same.

'Some secrets were better left buried'.

And, he almost winced, because those were his grandmother's words. Most of his youth was spent in the strict confines of Grimmuald Place, and at times it felt like he and his grandmother were the only people in the world, and that hadn't been exactly pleasant but it had been been familiar, and he yearned a little to go back even if that sounded crazy even to him.

Did he really belong in Malfoy Manor...?

At first, he thought of Mrs Malfoy. She always had a kind word to say, making him remember how 'special' and 'deserving' he was of good things, but that only cheered him up a little. Yes, he was a Black and that was great, but he always failed in time - his grandmother had given him so many chances, and he had always failed, and, here he was, with his chance to mess it up again.

Mrs Malfoy expected much.

Mr Malfoy expected much.

Lady Malfoy expected much.

Lord Malfoy expected much, even if he barely even spoke.

The Blacks probably expected just as much, if not more.

It would be so easy to fail, and every time he thought about it it seemed more likely he would. Orion wasn't very special - he didn't answer the questions with the confidence and intelligence of Viscaria, he didn't really know anything about the politics Mr Malfoy would sneer about at breakfast, he couldn't build castles from blocks as well as Draco, he didn't even know his parents besides from what people told him, and that Mini-Quidditch game the other day left him with a sprained ankle that Mrs Malfoy had to heal up and a losing streak.

"...So, why do you think Miss Galster let us go early?" came Viscaria's voice, and Orion broke out of his thoughts to find himself walking just behind her down the corridor. "Normally she keeps us till twelve o'clock, at least. And, she said we were 'expected' in the Drawing Room."

"She let us go early?" Orion asked, surprised.

Viscaria had a 'no duh' expression on her face. "Obviously. It's half-past eleven," she said, rolling her eyes - which she seemed to do often. "Maybe there's a surprise, special event we're going to, but we don't know... because it's a surprise."

"A surprise...?" Orion asked, his voice going an octave higher, unsure whether to happy or nervous. "What surprise...?"

Viscaria paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Is it your birthday or something...?" she asked, giving him a bright look. "You could have a surprise party! I bet there's a really big cake!"

"My birthday in June..." Orion said dryly. He was surprised she'd forgotten, since Draco had made an entire hissy fit about their birthday being in the month. "I told you that five days ago."

"Maybe it's a late birthday party. June was only a few months ago," Viscaria said, giving him a confident look. "They probably know your birthday sucked really bad, and wanted you to have a real one."

"My birthday did not suck!" Orion snapped, defensively.

Viscaria raised an eyebrow, giving him an incredulous look. "What are you talking about? All you got was some ring that was too big so kept slipping off your finger, and a few pairs of Persian socks, and two boring books," she said snootily, folding her arms. "That's what you said, remember."

"They were nice socks!" Orion snapped, not bothering to defend the other two things.

"Right..." Viscaria said dryly, a grin on her lips. "Do you know what I got for my birthday...?"

"No."

"Well, I'm going to tell you that it was a lot better and a lot more than that," Viscaria remarked, and Orion scowled. She paused, as if thinking of something to say. She smiled. "Don't worry. You'll probably get just as much; you're with us now."

His lips thinned.

'With us', huh.

"I guess..." he said, simply.

Not that his was brooding enough to not be a little excited. The way Viscaria talked about her gifts, it would be nice to have that sort of extravagance for his own birthday. She'd told him of the things she'd got last - dresses fit for a little princess, tens of pretty dolls made from the most finest and that extravagant dollhouse they sometimes played with, most expensive quality, adventurous books full of wonder and fairy tales, a pretty locket passed down by generations, a silver flute engraved with beautiful patterns, a violin that she rarely even played, a new painting set, a Snitch Snatcher! Board game that she cheated at (he swore!), and more - and, Merlin, that wasn't even counting the grand parties she told him about.

If she could get that much...

He almost drooled.

He could maybe get about a third as much, and that would be great!

"Anyway, let's hurry up before we get yelled," Viscaria said brightly, grabbing his arm and practically through the corridor.

* * *

They were waiting in the Drawing Room.

Viscaria and Orion had entered so silently, none of them seemed to notice they were there.

Mrs and Mr Malfoy were sipping from their rose-painted teacups, chuckling about something as they talked with some unknown guests - guests that seemed to have an air of importance and dignity.

Well, the itchy, pristine cable-knit sweater and navy-striped tie her was wearing, the beige trousers and the shiny brown shoes made sense now. As well as his black hair being slicked back by a fussy Miss Kettletoft (who seemed to be in charge of dressing him when Miss Galster or Mrs Malfoy weren't available) to the point he was surprised she didn't rip his hair out.

He had to look the part; he just hoped he didn't mess this up somehow.

Whatever this was supposed to be...

"...Yes, Visinia, well..."

"...I, of course, I was just..."

"...Oh Merlin, did she actually...?"

"...Well, Weasley's just are sub..."

"...Oh, you mustn't mean...?"

"...Ought to have seen..."

Then, Mrs Malfoy's sharp eyes caught them and she cleared her throat. "Viscaria, Orion! Good of you to join us," she greeted, smiling brightly, her eyes shifting further onto Orion for a little. "We've been itching to introduce you to some family friends, Orion."

* * *

**AN: Orion's just settling in. I got to introduce quite a few characters this chapter - I just wanted to show how Orion was fitting in and adjusting to the Malfoy's fairly showy life.**

**UPDATE: Decide to work on a scene or two that I found not so satisfactory, but nothing critical has been changed. Also, delete bits I found completely unproductive.**

**UPDATE: Oops, accidentally left a scene in there I wanted to move. Hope I didn't cause confusion.**


	5. Chapter 4: Mocking Girl

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 4: Mocking Girl**

* * *

**8th October, 1985**

* * *

Orion froze.

Everyone was looking at him, again. Everyone was looking.

"Ah, yes, this is Mrs Zabini and her son, Blaise..." Mr Malfoy drawled, sounding almost half-hearted as he gestured towards a woman and a child sitting on the emerald, hexagon-patterned sofa.

She was a dark-skinned witch in a leopard-spotted dress which left her back exposed and gold, sparkling heels. Her diamond-like face hosted a red smile and dark, narrow eyes. Almost just as strikingly, her hair was a nest of dreadlocks twisting like they were the serpents of Medusa herself.

Her smirking son was almost a mini-duplicated and nearly as flamboyant in his silver tuxedo and leopard-spotted bow-tie.

"He'll cause trouble when he grows up," Mrs Zabini remarked, her sharp cheek pressed against her well-manicured fingernails, looking extremely satisfied for some reason. "Handsome little thing..."

Orion felt heat rise in his cheek.

They kind of reminded him of the royals in Enchanted Encounters. Hopefully, not as backstabbing and evil though.

Mr Malfoy rolled his eyes. "And, this is our... good friend, Mr Nott," Mr Malfoy continued the introductions, getting even more unenthusiastic as he gestured to the smiling Mr Nott. "And, his son, Theodore," he added, gesturing to the boy beside Mr Nott.

Even if it was a little mean to say, the Notts looked rather gaunt.

Mr Nott looked like a stick-figure as he peered down at Orion through horn-rimmed glasses. The tight-fitting black suit with a polka-dot tie wasn't helping the image. In fact, his head almost looked too big for his body and his bright smile creased his face to the point he looked even more odd.

His son, Theodore, also had a sort of spindly look about him. He wore a simple navy bow-tie and black trousers - and, despite how well-fitted they seemed, it still felt like they hung off him a little too baggily. Unlike his jubilant father, Theodore looked completely unimpressed with everything...

And, Viscaria didn't look impressed, either.

She threw a snide look at Nott Jr. when nobody was looking.

"Hello..." Orion said hesitantly, raising his hand.

"Hello there, sport!" Mr Nott said brightly, smiling widely and shaking his hand enthusiastically.

Mr Malfoy rolled his eyes. "And, this is Mr Berrow, Mrs Berrow and their son, Darius," he drawled, sounding half-hearted as he introduced them. "They're... very good friends of this family."

Standing beside Mrs Malfoy, Mrs Berrow was a pretty witch with brown eyes and her short, dark hair was in a bob-style. Her semi-roundish, yet refined face had high-cheekbones - the nose was a little flat, but it suited her. She wore a rouge, pencil dress and a white, peplum jacket with black heels.

Meanwhile, Mr Berrow was the tanned man with a handsome jaw, dark eyes and slick, wavy black-hair, leaning against a pillar right next to the refreshments. He seemed the most casual in a white jumper, a grey cap, white trousers with pockets he'd stuffed his hands into, and brown, laced shoes.

Still trying to slowly edge away from Draco, and now having an opportunity, Darius Berrow seemed to get right up in Orion's face with his wide brown eyes. "Hello, I'm Darius Berrow. You're Orion Black," he introduced them both quickly, shaking his hand very enthusiastically and all with a giant grin on his face. "I bet we'll be friends... So, what do you want to play?"

Orion's stared. "Uhh... dolls?"

Everyone paused for a moment... well, except...

Mr Berrow outright laughed.

Mrs Zabini smirked, seemingly amused.

Orion felt his face heat up.

"Uhhh... well, hah, ok-" Darius began slowly, trying to hold down sniggers.

Mrs Malfoy stepped forward, looking a little nervous. "...Why don't you all just go play in the yard for a bit? Get to know each other better and have some fun?" She smiled down at them. "...Ah, remember that game you played last, Viscaria... what was it...? 'Rescue the Princess', wasn't it?" she added, a finger thoughtfully pressing against her chin.

"It's Slay the Dragon, mother," Viscaria corrected, a proud-look on her face.

"Right. That seemed fun..." Mrs Malfoy said cheerily, and a little bemused.

And as they left the adults to whatever they were going to do, Orion swore he heard...

"...Dolls? Really, Lucius...?"

Orion felt his face go red as he noticed that Theodore, Blaise and Darius kept glancing or in the latter's case staring at him. At first he figured it was because he was the Black heir, but now that he thought about it they didn't really seem... nervous or respectful, but mocking.

"What?" Orion felt his voice squeak, he went even redder.

Darius was just staring and, worse still, Blaise who despite being two feet shorter than him still managed to look at him like he'd never seen someone so stupid.

Meanwhile, Theodore Nott gave him the driest look he had ever seen. "What do you think?" His tone really was dull and patronising, it completely suited him and that really was annoying. After a moment, the pale boy shrugged and muttered something under his breath.

Orion looked away to find a face-ful of Darius repeatedly mouthing 'dolls?' at him with wide brown eyes and a mouth slightly agape.

"Dolls," he repeated like an idiot.

"And we have a winner," Blaise said, rolling his eyes.

"You know. I thought the _Black heir_ would at least be smarter than a House-Elf, but I guess your family isn't just crazy, after all," Theodore drawled, before breaking out in a sharp laugh. "I mean, really? You play with dolls...?"

Viscaria stopped, swiveling around to face them with her arms folded. "What's wrong with playing with dolls?" she said, looking at them in annoyance, a scowl on her face.

Blaise looked at her dryly. "It's... girly."

"So?" she quipped, meeting his gaze with a stubborn one.

The dark-skinned and very unimpressed boy did nothing but arch a delicate eyebrow.

Theodore Nott couldn't stop himself from making a snide remark. "I think Orion is supposed to be a boy. Well, at least that's what my father told me," Theodore snorted. "To think, he goes on and on about me being on my best behaviour. For months, he's telling me to be careful around you... and you like dolls," he said, ending it rather anti-climatically.

She glared at them. "At least Orion isn't scared of dolls. You two would probably cry if you held one."

The three boys all replied in unison.

"Cry tears of boredom," Theodore said.

"I'm not scare of dolls!" Darius blurted out.

"I'm more scared of Orion's confusion," Blaise snorted.

Orion blushed at the last line. Why did these people have to visit?

Viscaria was smirking. "Sure sounds like it. You're widdle babies afraid of dollies," she mocked, her voice becoming more high pitched and a babyish-pout on her face. "What? Scared that your friends will make fun of you..."

"You're an idiot. A spoiled, dumb girl who doesn't know anything," Theodore snorted.

"...It's not like you have any." Then, she paused as she registered Nott's words. "What did you just say to me?" she hissed, gnarling her teeth as her arm latching onto the boy's wrist and yanking her towards him.

"Ow," the brown-haired boy glared at her, rubbing his arm. Orion noticed there were now little indents where her hand had been.

"Baby," she snorted, rolling her eyes. Then she gave him a glared, as if just remembering why she did that. "Call me an 'idiot' again and I'll tell my father," she warned smugly, and the boy seemed to pale just a little.

For some reason, Darius grinned.

Orion just sighed. Girls were crazy.

"So, what do _you_ want to do?" Theodore

Viscaria paused, stroking her chin. "Didn't you hear mum? 'Slay the Dragon'," she said grinning and Orion had a bad feeling about this. "Theodore, I think you'll have to be the damsel in distress..." Her grin grew even more vicious.

Theodore gaped.

Blaise looked utterly unfazed, while Darius laughed a moment later, earning himself a glare from the victim. "Good fit."

Orion felt himself smile. "He does seem pretty delicate," he noted, poking the boy's scrawny arm.

Theodore swatted his hand away, giving him a glare. "You know what..." He opened his mouth, before sighing, his shoulders slumping. "...I'm just gonna do just that. What do I have to do?" he said flatly.

"You're a hostage. You don't do anything. You just lie there," she said patronisingly.

Theodore flopped on his back, arms behind his head. There was a relaxed expression on his face

"You're supposed to be scared," Viscaria huffed. He paid her no mind, idly pulling grass out of the lawn and flicking it about. "...You know what..." A sly grin formed on her face. "...I think we're going to have to pretty him up a little."

Theodore's eyes widened. "What?"

She ignored him. "Darius." Pivoting on foot, she swung herself around to face the tanned boy who was smirking. "Get us some pretty flowers, please!" She paused. "Actually, get as many as you can."

"Okay..." the boy said, walking over to the nearest patch of flowers.

"Are you done yet?" she called, craning her neck.

"Nearly," was the response.

He shoved a bundle of yellow, purple and green flowers into her awaiting arms. Viscaria began to sort through them, stick up her nose for a second as she flung a few slightly shriveled to the ground. With delicate fingers, she tied some of the stalks into nooses and chains, although some of the stems ended up splitting.

After a few moments, Blaise took a few from her and started to make chains himself.

"Stand up," she commanded, passing a few flowers to both Orion and Darius.

Theodore lazily got to his feet, kicking the soil.

Viscaria started by hanging one off his ear and with the other hand a long chain marigolds around his neck. Blaise just put some on his head, while Darius just went up and stuffed some down the front of Theodore's shirt. "Hey, Hey."

Orion nearly burst out laughing at the flowers peaking out, he looked ridiculous.

Theodore glared at him.

Pressing his lips into a firm line, Orion stepped forward under the heat of the other boy's gaze. He smiled as slip one of them around the boys wrist like a bracelet.

"I don't think that's enough. I think this toad needs something drastic to make him a pretty damsel," she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "Oh, I know!" she said as if she'd had an epiphany, throwing up her arms. "Mum is pretty when she puts her makeup on." She grinned. "That's it, get some of mum's makeup from her room, Orion," she ordered, pointing back to the manor.

Orion blinked, then he scowled. "Why me?"

"No, no, no!" Theodore scrambled to his feet, snarling. "I'm not doing that!"

Viscaria shrugged. "I guess I'll tell my father about the things you said to me. That I was an 'idiot', that I was 'ugly', other stuff too, all to his little girl," she drawled, folding her arms and leaning forward.

The pale boy stared. "You wouldn't..."

Blaise snorted in amusement.

She smiled, although she seemed to be fighting to keep a straight face. "I'll call him right now. He'll probably be able to hear me." She opened her mouth wide, sucking in the chilly air. "Fa-"

"Okay, okay!" he said desperately, raising his arms in surrender. "You win," he spat out, glaring.

Viscaria smirked, tilting her head back. "Orion?"

Orion narrowed his eyes, not budging. "Why do I have to do it?" he repeated.

"I'll go with you?" Darius offered, giving him a reassuring look.

She let out a frustrated sigh. "What? And get you both caught?"

The tanned boy frowned. "No, I'm not..." He folded his arms, giving her a look. "Remember time last Christmas-"

Viscaria snorted. "Everyone was just trying to be nice to you."

Orion sighed, hesitantly taking a step towards the manor. It wasn't fair that she was pushing this on him, but he didn't have the energy to argue; she was just too stubborn. "But won't she notice...?" he said, stopping and turning back to face them.

She rolled her eyes. "Please. She won't."

"But, I-I..." Orion swallowed.

She stared at him for a few moments, before huffing. "Oh, Darius, just go with him," Viscaria sighed.

Darius grinned, walking towards him. Orion smiled weakly, before letting loose a sigh and continued to walk up the lawn towards door.

His hand grasped the doorknob... he turned around and scowled when he see Viscaria had begun to jubilantly wave at him while Theodore looked on the edge of murdering probably everyone.

"I hope he does

"Hmm, what?" Darius said.

He opened the door, stepping through.

The hallway was pretty quiet and even though the sun was shining high through the window, it was still quite boxy and dim. He stood for a second at the threshold, before taking a careful step, keeping an ear out for noise.

Darius gave him a shove him, nearly making him lose his balance. "Come on. If you go at that pace we'll be here all," he said, walking past him with a shrug.

They paused.

The door was half ajar, and voices were emanating from it.

It was Mrs Malfoy who was speaking. "...Oh well, I suppose there's nothing you can do when it comes to that sort."

"True. No point in wasting time with that ilk... what I find intimidating is how many there are now," came the voice of Mrs Greengrass. "For the life of me, I never understood why they have so many kids when they can barely afford one."

"Well, you know the Weasleys, they breed like rabbits..."

"Hmph. Makes you wonder how long it'll take before they run out..."

"Oh Visinia really?"

Darius grabbed Orion's hand, dragging him forward, both of their eyes latched onto the door. Orion saw glimpse of Mrs Malfoy looking like she'd swallowed a lemon, before they were clear of the door and continued down the hall quietly.

"Do you really think... Theodore deserves this?" Orion whispered, glancing about nervously.

Darius nodded sagely. "Oh yes. It'll knock him down a couple inches," he said. "You have not seen how unbearable that guy can get. He's always so... he's a downer, no matter what we do he'll find some way to ruin it."

"I guess," Orion said uncertainly.

"Besides, we're helping him in a way. Every time he's an arrogant toerag we can lord this over him... it's like you with a dog how you spray it with water every time it's bad," Darius said, as they entered the foyer. "Besides, this is going to be so much fun." He grinned. "Way better than just the same-"

They heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

Orion glanced to find something he could hide behind, but Darius was already dragging him behind one of those angelic statues.

"...Why couldn't have taken that stupid test later?" Draco whinged, making his way down the stairs.

Mrs Kettletoft smiled patiently. "The special invigilator could only come today of this week, Draco," she said softly, touching his shoulder.

He shrugged her off, scowling. "But, they're going to be half-way through the game by now."

"What game?" she asked.

"I don't know. But, I'm going to get the sucky, unfun part now, I just know it," the blond boy said, folding his arms and nearly tripping on the bottom step.

Darius snorted.

"_Shh,"_ Orion shushed him.

Luckily neither of them heard their exchange, Draco was too busy blushing pink and his nanny was trying to vainly stifle a chuckle behind her hand. "You distracted me," he said accusingly, scowling, before stamping past them into the corridor.

"Draco, wait..."

Picking up the hem of her robes, Mrs Kettletoft scurried after the blond boy.

They waited a few moments, before sliding out from the statue and started to go up the stairs.

On the fifth step, there was a creaking sound. Both Darius and Orion froze, glancing at each other.

"Which door is it?"

"Second to the left."

Mr and Mrs Malfoy room wasn't bright like Viscaria's or his, it was more solemn. The drapes on the dark, wooden king size were a translucent purple, and the covers were a green brocade.

"Huh, I was expecting..." Darius trailed off.

"What?"

"Something more... embarrassing. Like peacock wallpaper,"

Orion snorted. "Then you don't want to see the ensuite bathroom

"No..." the other boy grinned.

"Yes," he said, nodding.

"I'm just going to go..." Darius paused, before nearly practically rushed into the bathroom. A few moments later, he popped his head back out, the disappointment clear on his face. "You liar."

Orion grinned. "Who, me?"

There was a screen with some clothing still draped on it.

Mrs Malfoy's dressing table was in the corner of the room. Everything was neatly placed; bottles of perfume, silver and golden lipstick casing standing upright, jewelry gracefully hanging off stands.

There was a black and white picture stuck to the mirror, it was of a blonde and dark-haired girl in teal and black robes standing together on a grassy verge. The blonde girl was almost Viscaria, but not quite...

Mrs Malfoy.

His eyes slid to the other girl. That meant...

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Orion murmured to himself.

The tanned boy squinted his eyes, leaning closer. "Oh yeah..." He picked up a lipstick, unwinding it until it showed pink lipstick, he unwound another one which was purple, and then then held both of them up. "What do you think will suit Theodore more?" he said with a cheeky smile.

Orion stifled a laugh. "...I see him more as a purple kind of guy."

"Just what I was thinking," Darius said mirthfully, winding it back up and stuffing it in his pockets.

Trailing his hand across the dresser a couple of times, Orion decided to pick up a blush compact. "Bring out the roses in the pale cheeks, you think?" he said with a toothy grin.

"Oh yes." Darius picked up some eye-shadow. "Just to bring out his eyes?"

Nodding, Orion's eyes flickered over the dressing table for something else of note. "I've always felt long hair was pretty cool," he suggested with a smirk, picking up a half black, half blonde wig.

Darius sniggered. "If you put that on him, I think I'm gonna have a crush."

Orion laughed.

* * *

When they got back to the garden, it was quite a sight.

Draco was rolling around on the floor, clutching his side and laughing really loudly, as a smirking Blaise stood over him. Theodore was silently stewing on the ground, his arms folded and his fists clenched.

"Finally," Viscaria said, pushing herself off the tree.

"First, the hair," Darius said, and Draco broke out in another bout of hysterical laughter.

Theodore was giving him a glare that could kill, but Orion had had worse. A smile grew on Orion's face as he just plopped the wig on his head, patting it down. "There," he said simply, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

"He looks prettier, already," Darius teased, patting Orion on shoulder.

"You really have low standards, Darius. He's so pale he looks like a vampire..." Viscaria said as she picked up the blush first. "We're going to add some colour to those cheeks. No need to thank us," she taunted, descending on her victim.

Theodore took a step back, but his eyes widened as he found arms looping around him, holding him in place.

"Blaise?"

"Nothing personal," the dark-skinned boy said flatly, tightening his grip.

Viscaria began to dab his cheeks with the blush, a striking pink beginning to form on his cheek, and it looked very sloppy likely due to the girls lack of care and the boys desperate squirming. It looked like he'd got a messy cold or something after she was finished, and considering how she stepped back with a smile on her face at least someone was satisfied.

"Keep holding him, Blaise. Lipstick is the most important feature."

The Nott paled, even more than Orion thought was already possible. Maybe this was taking things a bit too far...?

She raised the lipstick until it was an inch from his grimacing face. She flicked it, making him flinch, and creating a red line on his cheek. She giggled, swaying to back and forth, then she jabbed it forward, and Theodore flinched again, but it didn't touch him. She giggled, drawing around, she buzzed it about his face

Quick as a flash, he had a red mark on his chin.

She raised the lipstick again. "Pucker up," she said, grinning as she pressed the lipstick against his lips, smushing it on like it was crayon. "There, you really look like a damsel now," she giggled loudly, her body shaking and causing her work to become even messier.

"Oh, can I be the dragon? Can I? Can I? Make me the Dragon!" Draco demand enthusiastically.

Viscaria looked fondly at her little brother. "Yes."

To say it was quite the sight for the grown-ups when they came across the Nott heir half-heartedly screaming like a little girl in messy makeup, flowers and a wig while Draco cackled evilly with his mouth wide open, lurching at people, and everyone else was running around dodging imaginary fire...

...To say it was quite the sight would be an understatement.

* * *

**14th October, 1985**

* * *

Mrs Malfoy had been annoyed they had used her stuff, yes.

But, it seemed her amusement about it made the punishment much shorter than normal.

It was why they were visiting Diagon Alley for a family day out when by all rights they should have been grounded for at least a few more days.

Anyway, Diagon Alley was full of life. There were bustling witches and wizards of all types pushing through the cobbled and far too narrow streets, of all shapes and sizes; a colourful sea of many different folk, many of whom made Mrs Malfoy stick up her nose and gently steer them clear of.

"Can I have an ice cream, please?" Viscaria asked, pointing to the Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour to the right. "We've been walking all day!"

Suddenly, Orion definitely perked up at that and Draco looked eager as well.

Mrs Malfoy pursed her lips. "Hmmm..."

"Mummy! I want the chocolate! We've been walking forever!" Draco pitched in, and it was a very high pitch, as he put on his best puppy face, his lip puckered and quivering.

Orion wondered if he should join in, but Mrs Malfoy had already wavered. "Oh fine," she sighed, a smile forming on her face. "I suppose you all deserve a treat," she said, beginning to open her purse, she pulled out a few Sickles and Knuts.

She handed them to Viscaria.

"Thanks, mum."

"Thanks, mummy."

"Thanks, Mrs Malfoy."

They grinned amongst themselves as they walked over to the parlour, leaving Mrs Malfoy do some more window browsing. The inside of the establishment was quite rustic, wooden floors, stone walls and a homely feel at just the right temperature.

The wizard, who he assumed to be Florean Fortescue, was at the counter had long dark hair, a kindly and grubby old face with a mustache and pointed chin-beard combination. His eyes seemed to light up at the sight of them.

"Now, what brings you kids here?"

"I would think that'd be obvious," Viscaria said airily.

Draco folded his arms, nodding. "Yeah. Just give us the ice cream already."

Orion rolled his eyes. So this was what happened when children didn't have manners beaten into them? Thankfully the man didn't look offended in the slightest. "Sorry sir," he apologised for good measure. "Have you got mint, please?"

Mr Fortescue smiled. "Any toppings?"

"Hey, I want strawberry and chocolate ice-crime with marshmallows," Viscaria snapped, slapping the money on the counter. Orion glared at her, but she just shrugged at him. "What? I have the money..." she explained as if it was obvious.

"Okay, young lady," the wizard chuckled heartily. "Don't worry we have time to serve you all. Strawberry and chocolate ice-cream with marshmallows for you," he said, pointing at Viscaria. "A mint ice cream with...?"

Orion paused. "Marshmallows."

"Okay. A mint ice cream with marshmallow-"

"I want chocolate with those little chocolate things and chopped knuts," Draco demanded, raising his chin and nose up.

Mr Fortescue nodded, smiling in good humour. "Well, doesn't this one take charge. I'll get you your ice cream, the cost is seven Sickles and fifteen Knuts," he said, and Viscaria slid the correct amount of money over to him, which he briefly counted before putting it into the cash machine. "Ice cream coming up," he said, disappearing around the corner in a blink.

"Ugh! I hate when they take forever-"

It seemed to take Mr Fortescue less than a twenty seconds to come back with a three very large ice-creams. "Here you go." Next thing Orion knew an ice-cream had been put in his, Viscaria and Draco's hands. "Have a nice day and please enjoy your ice-cream, Miss Malfoy, Mr Malfoy and Mr Black," he said sincerely, waving them off.

Orion frowned as they began to leave the parlour.

They hadn't even introduced themselves... Viscaria and Draco just seemed to take it without as a bat of an eyelash. He guessed they were used to it, being a part of one of the most prominent families in the Wizarding World that weren't hermits must give them quite the spotlight.

Oh well.

He licked his ice cream, his tastes buds exploding. "Hmm, this is really good," he said, licking it more enthusiastically, scooping up one of his marshmallows and swallowing it. "We should go there more often."

"I wish. Mum's always such a Goblin when it comes to sweets," Viscaria said, delicately licking her ice-cream into a perfect dome. "I wish dad took us to Diagon Alley more on his own. He doesn't care what we eat."

"The idiot forgot the marshmallows," Draco sneered out suddenly, looking at his ice cream as if it had betrayed him.

Viscaria and Orion gave him a dry look. "You didn't ask for marshmallows," they said in unison, before pausing and looking at each other bemused.

Draco went pink. "Oh yeah."

"Oh, those look delicious," Mrs Malfoy said when they met up with her. Mr Malfoy was there too, he'd had to take care of some business which had taken him a couple of hours, but it looked like he was finished.

It was getting dark.

"Are we leaving?" Viscaria asked hopefully.

"Well..." Then Mrs Malfoy paused, a frustrated look crossing her face. "Oh, but I haven't got Orion more clothes yet? And, now that I think about it, Viscaria might need some new things as well," the blonde witch said thoughtfully, stroking her chin.

"But, mum. I'm tired," Viscaria lied, 'yawning' and giving her a tired look.

"Me too," Draco pitched in, stretching his arms slowly.

Orion was a little late. "Me-"

"Tell you what. Why don't I take Viscaria and Draco home, and you can shop till your hears content with Orion?" Mr Malfoy drawled, the slight curl of his lip showing his amusement. Bastard.

Orion opened his mouth, raising his hand.

"Come along, Orion," Mrs Malfoy said, putting her hand on his shoulder and guiding him away. "Goodbye darlings. I'll see you soon," she said as she practically whisked him through the streets before he could protest.

Soon enough, he was bustled into a fancy-looking shop called Twilfitt and Tattings.

The wallpaper was emerald, gleaming and pretty floral pattern. Small white-stoned sculptures and even a small fountain trickling away, the mahogany tables and counters were polished to perfection, the chairs each had unique decorative, plush pillows and, of course, there was a hosted array of glamorous looking clothing either showcased on marble mannequins or on the silver, ornate racks just waiting for someone with bursting wallet or purse to pick them up.

The manager of the establishment, Mr Dodworth, had come out to see them personally. He was a stout man in pine-striped suit with a grand overcoat and a fat, purple bow. He seemed very pleased, brown eyes glinting behind his glittering spectacles and his face kind of reminded Orion of a rabbit, especially with the buck teeth.

"Mrs Malfoy. Welcome!" The man greeted, exuberantly clapping his hands together. "A pleasure, a pleasure!"

She smiled brightly. "Mr Dodworth. It's wonderful to see you as well." Orion felt her hand on his shoulder, beckoning him forward. "This is Orion. He needs some new attire," she introduced.

The middle-aged wizard looked him over, frowning a little. "I see... Yes, his clothes are quite nice, especially the material, but they don't seem to... quite suit him," he said, noting a few creases and faintly baggy areas that even the shrinking charm hadn't quite even out (which kind of mind Orion a little self-conscious).

Mrs Malfoy let out an embarrassed laugh. "...Unfortunately, I think I counted my owls before they delivered, so to speak."

Mr Dodworth smile widened "Ah yes. Well, I'll give you an 'O' for effort," he chuckled, before turning to pretty, chestnut-haired witch in a navy blue suit with white trim that was standing at the counter. "Clarissa. Come over with the measuring tape, would you kindly, my dear?"

"Of course, sir," Clarissa said, quickly fishing through a draw before triumphantly striding towards them with a roll of tape in hand.

Turning to Mrs Malfoy, the smile was still fixed on Mr Dodworth's face. "Mrs Malfoy, would you like to browse around for a while until they're finished?" he suggested, gesturing to some glamorous dresses on the rack.

"Of course," Mrs Malfoy said, her blue eyes brightening as she eyed a sparkling, emerald gown. "Take care, Orion," she added, as she began to walk away with Mr Dodworth in her tow.

Clarissa began to measure him, first his arms, then his legs, then his head, before she left it floating in air - as it continued its task unaided by her - as she unsheathed notepad from under her arm as well as a ballpoint pen that had been clipped to her breast pocket and began jotting stuff down.

Her golden name-tag read Clarissa Maltby.

Orion nervously smiled, deciding to make conversation. "...H-Hello, Ms Maltby," he said, feeling pretty shy.

Ms Maltby paused, almost looking surprised, before smiling at him. "Hello, Orion..." she said, her brown eyes falling back to her notepad as jotted down a few notes of, likely, his measurements. "...How are you today?"

"I'm okay. How are you?" he asked, politely, before then scowling a little as the tape, for some reason, measured his nose like a pestering fly zinging around his face.

Her smile widened a little as she glanced at him. "I'm fine, thank you."

There was a moment of silence, as Orion thought of what next to say. "...You're really pretty," he said bravely, remembering the compliments helped.

"Aw, thank you," she stated, putting her hand to her chest, gratefully. "A little ladies man in the making, I see."

Orion blushed, shaking his head. "I-I, um, uh..." he stammered, his face turning redder.

She smiled, amused, before frowning a tiny bit as she looked down at her notepad. "...Hmm, okay, 4'1, 47 pounds and..." She muttered to herself.

"Um, is something wrong?" Orion asked, feeling unsure as he bit his lip.

She paused, before she shooked her head. "Just remember to eat your fill next time you have breakfast, lunch and dinner," she chuckled, giving him a coy, reassuring smile. "You're a little scrawny for a Black heir, huh?"

"No, I'm not..." Orion said, scowling a little.

Orion noticed that Mr Dodworth was walking over to them with a terse expression. "Clarissa. I take it the measurements are done now, correct...?"

"Of course, Mr Dodworth," she replied, lifting the notepad up for him to see.

Mr Dodworth nodded, taking the notepad from her grasp. "Thank you," he replied, before befitting Orion a bright smile. "Please, Mr Black, would you come with me...?" he added, lightly beckoning him forward

"Um, yes, of course," Orion said, taking in a breath and stepping forward.

He ushered him over to the boy's section, Mr Dodworth had to leave him waiting there as more customers had entered the store. One was a brown-haired witch a rainbow cloak who he vaguely recognised as Phylis Winikus, looking through the evening dresses.

"Oh, Phylis. I thought you were in France?" Mrs Malfoy exclaimed in surprised from the other end of the store, after catching sight of her. He saw her making her way over.

Orion strained his ears.

"Yes, I thought I would be too," Mrs Winikus said, looking none to pleased. She sighed. "

"I see you're buying an evening gown. I've always thought you looked great in gold or bronze, if I do say so myself,"

The brunette witch smiled. "It's for Rubens. He's taking me to dinner tonight."

Mrs Malfoy glanced at the clock, ticking away above the counter. "What? Did he give you much notice?"

She chuckled. "No. You know what he's like..." She paused, glancing around nervously. "Anyway, how is little Nerys...?"

They continued to talk for a long while about all sorts of things and Orion was beginning to grow bored. Not only was he bored, but it was getting a little too stuffy in the quaint shop.

He needed some air and with that thought he noticed a back exit nearby.

He was in a small courtyard, it was a small, cobbled area. There was some torches, staving of the autumn darkness of the afternoon. Illuminated mostly by the moon was a statue in the middle, that of a ghoulish looking wizard in a cloak. There was a metal gate to the side which lead to the back alleys.

There were no stars, though. It must have been the clouds, he reasoned, although he'd noticed there never were stars in Diagon Alley.

Breathing in the cold, night air, he smiled. There was just something about being out at night that he liked. The darkness, how things quieted down. He always liked autumn the best for that.

A voice made him swivel around. "You're not allowed back here, Mr Black." Mr Dodworth was looking at him quite disapprovingly.

"Sorry," he said blandly.

"Get back in... please, sir. Your guardian is looking for you, you wouldn't want to make her worried?" he said primly, stepping aside and gesturing for him to pass.

Orion blushed, nodding his head, as walked back towards the door. He passed the wizard, giving him an apologetic look.

When his foot hit the first step, he heard a harsh scraping sound and a strange muffled sound. He turned around but there was nothing there, nobody, which was surprising considering he could have sworn that Mr Dodworth had been behind him just a moment ago.

_Clang!_

Orion jumped.

_Clang!_

The gate was smacking against open and shut in the wind, its metal screaming.

He stared, scrunching his brow. Mr Dodworth must have rushed off somewhere... which was strange since he didn't seem much in a rush. Hmm. Staring for a few more moments at the courtyard, he slowly turned away and walked back into the store, feeling off.

He didn't even need to get four steps before he ran into Mrs Malfoy. "There you are," she said, bundle of bags filled to the brim with clothes in. "I have some clothes for you to try on."

"Um, if you want, Mrs Malfoy..." Orion said nervously, wringing his hand.

The blonde witch shook her head. "You're the one who's going to be wearing them, Orion. I just want some nice that you'll be comfortable in, you understand?" she said softly - she had this way about her around him as if he was a fragile plate that'd break at any second.

Of course, he didn't hate it - perhaps, he rather liked it - but, it was strange.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Pick out something you like..." she said rather forcibly, shoving the sailor suit back on the rack.

Eventually, they ended up buying a lot of jumpers, vests and polo shirts, a few ties (Orion had always liked the stripy ties), a lot of cardigans, trousers, and some shorts. Mrs Malfoy seemed rather amused and even put off by how muted and somewhat dark the colours were.

But, she didn't complain.

After the long process of trying them on, discarding a few and having them fitted in a private room Mrs Malfoy had booked, he very glad when they'd finally arrived at the counter where Ms Maltby was stationed.

Mrs Malfoy dropped quite a handful of Galleons into the lady's palm.

"Goodbye," Orion said to Ms Maltby, waving a little, as they began to leave.

The witch smiled at him. "Goodbye, Mr Black."

"Oh, isn't he a dear? I don't know where he gets it," Mrs Malfoy said, almost bragging. "...Anyhow, yes, goodbye," she said, seemingly following his example (or at least it kind of felt like it).

"Goodbye, Mrs Malfoy," Ms Maltby said, still brightly but strangely to Orion not as brightly as when she'd addressed him...

...Or was he just imagining things?"

As soon as they were out of the shop, Mrs Malfoy couldn't hold it back in any longer.

"Oh, you're going to look perfect...!"

She clapped in excitement.

* * *

**18th October, 1985**

* * *

Orion finished his painting. It was of a green robed wizard, shooting fire out his palms.

It was one of the things he was fairly good at, painting... if he did say so himself. It was funny that he hated doing it. Could you really hate what you were good at? That seemed really unfair, especially since he was finally better than Viscaria in something since she could only paint stick figures well.

Still, he'd much rather play the piano.

The soft, sleepy music Viscaria was playing just seemed so much more impressive, even Mrs Malfoy, who was observing, looked pleased. Too bad the last time he'd been near a piano it had been somewhat relatively smooth sailing for every few seconds before his finger would hit the wrong key or his timing tripped him up as he stared at the gibberish that was the musical notes.

He sighed.

Maybe he should add a dragon to him painting? He hadn't tried to draw one of those yet.

The music abruptly stopped, Viscaria finishing off her last note on the piano. She looked bored, sliding her gaze over to her mother, who looked quite happy.

Mrs Malfoy clapped ecstatically. "Beautiful, Viscaria."

"Thank you, mother," the girl said, trying to sound pleased. It seemed even her need for praised could be watered down by time spent. "I've been practicing," she said, matter of factly.

"I've noticed," Mrs Malfoy said, smile widening. "I was listening. You reminded me of myself when I was your age, I always committed to being the best at the piano. Of course, Bella..." Her eyes got a far away look to them. "Bella always pretended she didn't care, but I knew she was just jealous," she said, her smile sliding off her face.

Viscaria raised an eyebrow.

"Mother?"

"You did well, you've really improved." Viscaria flinched as her mother suddenly bent down and wrapped her arms around her. "I'm so proud of you,

Orion felt a frown filter on his face, his stomach sinking. "Mrs Malfoy, Mrs Malfoy. What do you think of my painting?" he said loudly, gesturing to it enthusiastically.

Mrs Malfoy paused, blinking over Viscaria's shoulder. She disengaged her death grip and took a step towards him, raising her head to get a better look. "Oh, ah, it's very nice," she said absently, not really paying attention.

He scowled.

Stupid painting.

* * *

**AN: Hey, just filling in the gaps because I'm never satisfied and I just had this nugget that I wanted to do.**


	6. Chapter 5: Carpe Diem

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 5: Carpe Diem**

* * *

**7th June, 1986**

* * *

"Carpe Diem. What does it mean?"

Miss Galster was expectant, smiling sweetly at them. The kindness of eyes showing her lines.

Viscaria's response was immediate, polite and smug. "Seize the day, Miss."

"Well done, Viscaria. You're on a roll today," their tutor said, giving the girl a bright smile and making her practically glow.

Orion bit back a sigh, looking down.

Viscaria glanced at him, pausing, before a slow grin rising on her face.

It was unfair how she was so far ahead of him and she knew it. Everyone did, you could see their disappointment and satisfaction. To think, he thought his Aunt had taught him a lot those years between yelling at him, but there was a lot more to it than that.

Still...

He raised his head. He knew Latin well enough, he was just rusty a little right now. That was it. He would beat her in time and he would see the look on her face... and then it would begin again.

Besides, if they started learning French... Orion scowled. It would be the same bloody problem. Sure, his grandmother had taught him a fair bit, but it wasn't anything special when Mrs Malfoy would always know French better since her mother was a Rosier. It seemed like Mr Malfoy was well-versed in French as well, he like to make smug remarks in it. The blonde girl had the advantage, at least for now.

Well... He knew a very little German and bet she didn't know any. Not a bit.

There was a loud cough. "Orion... Vox Populi?" Miss Galster prompted, giving him an encouraging look as she gestured to the board, white chalk spelling out the words. "Do you know the meaning...?"

Orion's face blanched, his mind racing.

Well, 'Vox' was voice, wasn't it? 'Populi'... was that a plant? His lips moved before he could stop. "Voice of the plant?"

Viscaria just let out a short, very annoying giggle, her face telling him how obvious it should be.

Miss Galster shook her head, a small smile on her lips. "No, Orion... Please. Come on. You can do it. Try again." It felt like she was mocking him, but all there was was kindness in her face. "You were close. You just got the last word wrong."

Ah.

He blinked.

Populi...

Populi... as in population? Was it 'Voice of the population'? That sounded a little off, but he knew enough about English and Latin to know he must be on the right track... Oh wait, he definitely knew this!

"Voice of the people..."

* * *

They were standing on the porch.

The sun was sweltering, but Mrs Malfoy had caste a cooling charm.

Bored, Viscaria kicked her own feet. "I don't get why we have to wait for them," she whispered snottily in his ear like she hadn't said this many times before. "The Elves should do it," she said a moment later, lifting up her nose.

Draco scowled in agreement. "Why can't they?"

Orion winced, shielding his eyes as the sun almost blinding him. "Maybe the first thing people don't want to see is a House Elf?" he said absently, squinting as he noticed something over the horizon.

At first it reminded him of a giant chicken, but as it grew closer it proved to just be Mrs Greengrass. She wore blindingly yellow robes with double-breasted cape, her red-hair glinting in the sun. She was briskly walking, dragging her daughter, Daphne, along despite the girl's stumble, as they made their way down the stone path towards them. He briefly wondered where Astoria was.

"Diana!" Mrs Malfoy quickly met the Greengrasses half-way, engulfing the red-haired witch in a tight hug awkwardly returned. "Far too long, it's been far too." Her smile brilliant as she disengaged, her hand still resting on her friend's shoulder. "How have you been...? New hairstyle, I see," she said, nodding in a appreciation.

"Thank you, Narcissa." The red-haired witch smiled a red-lipped smile that creased her strong jaw, sharpened her cheekbones and didn't quite reach her hazel eyes. She smugly touched her shiny coiffed hair that was in a bouncy updo, its short fringe framed by two glinting rolls. "Just had it done. My hairdresser is quite phenomenal," she boasted, letting out a chuckle.

"Ah, I see. It suits you," Mrs Malfoy complimented, but Mrs Greengrass's lip still dipped. "...Very nice. I should... have mine done as well." She chuckled, her smile broadening. "My hair might need a little refreshment, myself... My wandwork and potioneering likely pales in comparison to a professional."

Orion snorted.

That was a complete lie.

The witch's smile was shark-like. "Oh Narcissa, we can't talk about me all day. Albert believes he's got a shoe-in for promotion and Daphne..." She beckoned the dark-haired girl forward, who first slowly, and then swiftly, after a sharp look, complied. "...Well, she has quite recently performed some accidental magic. Quite impressive," she simpered, lightly patting the girl on the shoulder.

Daphne was a thin girl with light freckles, pale skin facing up against hazel eyes and dark brown hair. While her mother wore, as always, bright colours, she just wore a murky green robes. She was a little odd, but Orion couldn't say he disliked her or anything.

"Liar. She's a squib, you can tell just by looking at her," Viscaria whispered under her breath, making Draco snort behind his hand.

Orion just gave her a look. "How can you tell?"

"You just can," she said arrogantly.

Mrs Malfoy smiled became a little softer, shifting her gaze. "Oh, what was it...?" She bent down, trying to elicit a response from the girl.

Daphne opened her mouth-

"She managed levitate feathers. You should have seen the things, swirling about her," Mrs Greengrass bragged, quite smug. Mrs Malfoy opened her mouth, but the witch continued. "And, that's just the tip of the dungheap. She even managed to light all the candles in the dining room once; gave us all quite the surprise."

"...Yes, quite impressive," the blonde witch said, standing straight and giving Mrs Greengrass an appraising look as if she'd done it all herself. "...Why, it reminds me a little of Viscaria. Did you know she 'healed' an apple?" she boasted.

Viscaria practically glowed. She always did. While Draco scowled and Orion nearly did the same.

Mrs Greengrass' smile dimmed a little. "I see..." The conversation was becoming a little awkward for the two adult witches as Mrs Greengrass seemed unwilling to expand of her reply...

"Oh, it's Phylis," Mrs Malfoy said quite loudly.

Orion caught sight of Mrs Winikus, or more her giant mane of hair ringlets. She was in a orange and gold striped dress with a jabot collar, 'artistically' splattered with silver and bronze leaves and tulips that stuck out from the dress at odd angles. As well as most strikingly (and hopefully-fake) honey-bees that very, very slowly wriggled and crawled about all over her dress.

Merlin...

He swallowed dryly. He really hoped those were just fake! But, just be safe, he'd stand as far away from her as possible without seeming rude, because that officially creeped him out.

"Looks like piggy-pink isn't showing," Viscaria whispered snidely.

Orion frowned, wondering why she was bothering to comment on that and not concerned about the 'bees'? He hated bees... and wasps. And spiders. And flies. And, well, every insect really. He wrung his hands, he could swear something was crawling on him...

No.

Do not freak out. Don't.

"Hello. Sorry I'm late, forgot the time," Mrs Winikus said when she reached the porch, nearly stumbling on the last step. She graced them with apologetic green eyes and a prim smile. "I hope you weren't waiting too long. Although to be fair, I don't understand why we couldn't just Floo directly into the house?" she said, acting as if walking from the gate to the house was that much a journey.

"Lucius is still upset about what happened with the Berrows," the blonde witch replied, shaking her head.

Mrs Greengrass sniffed. "Trust them to ruin things for everyone."

"Where's Nerys?" Mrs Malfoy asked.

"...Oh, she has the flu," the brown-haired witch sighed. "Nothing serious, but... ah, I didn't..."

Orion sort of lost track of the conversation as he found himself again staring again at the 'bees' on her dress, hundreds of tiny wings fluttering at the pace of a snail. It was mesmerizing... and terrifying.

Why couldn't it be butterflies?

"Ah, that's probably for the best," Mrs Malfoy said, grimacing, and drawing Orion's attention back to the conversation. "Anyway. Romaisa's attending a funeral and all Adonia could say was she was 'busy'. So, we're down to three..." She let out a sigh.

Mrs Winikus paused. "What about Visinia?"

Mrs Greengrass snorted.

"Ah, yes, she's been very... busy." Mrs Malfoy coughed, turning to the three of them with a warm smile. "...Why don't you all go to the garden, dears? I know how you like to play that fairy tale game of yours... just remember to stay in bounds, okay?"

Viscaria nodded. "Yes, mother."

"Yes, mum," Draco said loudly, trying to bustle in front of Viscaria for some reason

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy," Orion said politely, nodding his head like an idiot.

Mrs Malfoy smiled brightly. "Good. Do have fun and play nice."

* * *

The perfectly-trimmed, fresh deep green stretched far and wide until the edges of the unkempt hills outside the bounds. Paths of white stone curved and winded, dividing the lawn and leading to elaborate gardens full of grand fountains, marble statues and colour-coordinated patios.

They pretended these little gardens were kingdoms or sacred places for their games.

"...Of course, Draco will try to cheat."

"Don't you cheat, always?"

"No, it's my game, I don't cheat, idiot. Anyway, Orion..."

As the self-proclaimed 'Queen' in the game, Viscaria had picked the biggest mini-garden. It had brightly coloured flowers so plush they almost looked obese. There was an ornate fountain in the centre, its fountain head that of a cloaked witch holding a shield with the Malfoy crest in one hand and a wand that spurted out water from its tip in the other. She liked to 'execute' people in it by soaking them.

And, forced to be her most trusted warrior, Orion was stuck there with her too.

Depending on whim, Draco was a King or an Emperor or whatever of one 'kingdom' It was full of weird, glistening-green plants that didn't have any flowers (which was apparently for 'girls'). There was a statue of a large Peacock - yes, peacock - that was the newest addition to the garden made by Mr Malfoy to liven it up.

The evil high priestess, who was Daphne, had picked the gloomiest one with high, obscuring hedges and the shadow of a hills looming over it. It had dark purple flowers and the grey fountain hosted a gargoyle as its fountain head...

...Which Orion swore was alive, even if he could never catch it moving.

"...Since the grass is still so wet... Orion, I swear if you're not paying attention, I'll make you Court Jester forever," Viscaria voice rang,raco and he broke out of his thought to find her looking at him in annoyance. "Honestly..."

"Uh, sorry?" he said, earning a laugh from Draco.

"Right. Anyway, since Pansy isn't here we'll have to just leave her house out of it," the blonde girl huffed, folding her arms. "Okay, let's see... last time K-" She paused at Draco's look, before rolling her eyes. "Really, Draco? Do I have to call you Emperor of all Sky Magic? It's just stupid."

Orion snorted.

Draco went a little pink. "Your stupid!"

"You're the one with the stupid title!" Viscaria retorted, glaring.

"Nu-huh...!"

He and Daphne exchanged dry looks.

"...Oh, yeah-huh. You're an idiot...!"

"...Don't call me that! Mummy told you not to...!"

Which was surprisingly sociable of Daphne, in retrospect.

"...Oh, just because you're a tattletale...!"

"...I hate you, you troll!"

"...Oh, you take that back..."

Draco and Viscaria continued to bicker for a while longer until...

"I'm playing with you anymore, Viscaria! You'll be sorry when I tell father about this!" he yelled, before promptly storming off down the garden without a second glance to do Merlin knows what.

"Well, no one wanted you in the game anyway!" Viscaria shouted, her voice going annoyingly shrill and waving her fist at her brother's retreating back, before turning to look at the ones that were left. "...So, since Draco isn't even here anymore because he's such a toad-"

Orion gave her a look. "Viscaria...?"

"Yes, Orion...?" the blonde-haired girl asked a little forcefully.

He rubbed the back of his neck, stifling a sigh. "Pansy isn't here..."

The blonde girl snorted. "Good riddance."

"...Neither is Irfan or Darius, today. We barely ever see Ursula after that big falling out. I haven't seen Ernie in a year," he continued, giving her a careful look.

Viscaria gave him an impatient one, folding her arms. "Your point?"

"...So, well, now that Draco has stormed off somewhere and I don't think its just for a loo break... won't it be boring to play this game with just three players? As in, really boring?" he said, making her frown.

"Orion's right. We can do something else..." And, although it was more of a mumble, Orion almost jumped at Daphne's voice.

"Yeah, let's do something else for a change," Orion said.

The blonde-haired girl paused, resting her knuckle thoughtfully against her chin. "And, what would that be?" she said, giving him an impatient look. "What do you have in mind...? It better be interesting."

"Well... um, er... we could... uh..." Orion trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well... er..." Viscaria smirked and opened her mouth to speak, but an idea struck Orion before she could insult him. "We could spy on the adults!"

Daphne's eyes widened a fraction.

"'Spy on the adults'?" Viscaria echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Haven't you ever wondered what they say about us behind our backs...?" Orion said, grinning with an eyebrow raised, as Viscaria paused, exchanging looks with Daphne. "Come on... haven't you ever wondered what adults are like behind our backs?"

"What do you mean...? Adults are boring!" Viscaria barked, shaking her head in disbelief. "They don't even play games, they just sit around reading stuff and telling you not to do things. I mean, are you joking, Orion...?"

"...That's just what they want you to think," Orion snapped, folding his arms and sticking in nose in the air defiantly. "Believe me, I know." He flexed his hand, his eyes darkening a little. "They say all sorts of things to your face, but they say things when they don't think we're there..."

Viscaria's lips thinned, as if something was on the tip of her tongue. "...I'm in.."

They turned to look at Daphne.

Daphne remained silent.

They stared.

The brown-haired girl chewed her lip.

They stared harder.

Daphne sighed. "No."

"Come on, stop being such a spoilsport and do something fun for once," Viscaria said, rolling her eyes. "...If we're caught, we'll just blame Orion, Daphne..." she added, a smile curling on her lips.

"Wait!? What?" he snapped, eyes widening.

Viscaria smiled at the other girl, offering her a hand. "So, don't worry, Merlin...?"

He scowled. "Oh, I-"

"Okay," Daphne said flatly, taking Viscaria's hand and was soon practically being dragged towards the house.

"Hey, it's my idea! Don't just ditch me...!" he yelled, rushing after them.

* * *

The girls pressed their ears to the door.

Grumbling silently, Orion reluctantly pressed his ear to the floor.

"...'And, she turned to her defiant son and she knew she had done right by her choice. He had no light, no spark, and so he was never truly hers - the blood may run through his veins, but it was nothing but red wine without the taste'-" Mrs Malfoy said, before she was interrupted.

"I'm... not sure I like this book," the brown-haired witch said in a matter of fact manner, brushing a long strand of ringlet curls over her shoulder. "It's a little too brusque for my liking."

"Whatever do you mean?" Mrs Malfoy asked lightly.

"I'm not saying Delora Vaisey doesn't have her merits or her unsubtle messages, but her characters are as flat, pretentious and stereotypical as they come-" Mrs Winikus began to say.

"While Phylis is beating the bush, I believe you should let someone else besides yourself pick the books this time," Mrs Greengrass interrupted, her voice polite but a little annoyed. "I'm practically nauseous of Rita Skeeter, Delora Vaisey, Cantankerus Nott..."

Orion stifled a snort with his hands. "Merlin, his parents must have hated him," Orion whispered, and even Daphne cracked a smile.

"With a name like that, I'm sure he hated them more," Viscaria whispered back, grinning a little.

"...Cassiopeia Black... no offence," Mrs Greengrass continued, giving her a placating and half-hearted pat on the lap. "You understand what I mean, of course? The pages are just a little to dry for us - needs more 'sugar'..."

There was a pause. "I see..." Mrs Malfoy said, putting her steaming cup of tea back on its saucer. "Well... to that I say: let's just talk about the story so far and what Eudocia is going through..." The brown-haired witch made a small protest, but Mrs Malfoy continued. "...Then, we'll take a break from Magic Toyshop and diplomatically decide on something else to read for next week. Would that suffice?"

"I suppose," Daphne's mother's cool voice came.

"Hmm, I guess that'll be fine..." Mrs Winikus' voice came.

"Okay then," Mrs Malfoy said, almost tightly. "Well, why don't you start, Phylis?"

There was another pause. "...Well, Narcissa, I think Eudocia was - as I said - inappropriate..." Mrs Winikus said in a matter of fact tone. "In fact, forgive my language, but my first thought was..." Irritation seeped into her voice. "...Forgive me... an outright bitch, to be candid, actually."

"Really? Why ever so?" Mrs Malfoy said lightly.

Orion shuffled himself closer to the gap underneath the door, trying to get a better glimpse of the book club.

"Watch it..." Viscaria hissed as he accidentally kicked her leg.

As he strained his eyes, he couldn't see all their faces but he could see their legs and torsos sitting around a table with elegant legs with bright red books resting on their laps or still in their hands.

"...How did Eudocia even know her son was a squib? She never even gave him a chance," Mrs Winikius replied after a pause, the book rustling on her lap as she gripped it a little tighter. "How could she give up on him when she never helped him in the first place-?"

Mrs Greengrass laughed. "'Helped'? This is magic, not homework. Are you honestly one of those who think that all it takes is some namby-pamby encouragement and your dress turns gold...?" she said, her voice richly-deep with humour. "You either have the spark or you don't - and, Elphias doesn't." She snorted. "The boy practically shivers from magic from what I've read."

"Right..." the brunette witch said, her voice sweet but strained. "I'm sorry..." She snorted like it was a big joke. "Someone like you would know best, of course."

"...What makes you say that?" Mrs Greengrass said calmly.

As if basking in the cold silence, Mrs Winikus folded her legs, leaned back and took her time. "Daphne, Diana." Orion glanced at the said girl, who'd gone paler than usual. "The girl may scarcely speaks, but she doesn't have to because she is obviously intimidated by you..."

"Perhaps, we should talk about something else?" Mrs Malfoy tried to interrupt.

Mrs Winikus paid her no mind, her voice becoming harder and emphatic. "...Too intimidated to live up to her potential at any rate because she intimidated that she fail and you'll hate her, and I don't blame her," she said harshly, the clinking of a teacup and saucer like funeral bells as she set them down on the polished table. "But, at least she can flip a few feather, I suppose. That's makes it all better."

Ouch.

Orion and Viscaria stared at Daphne, one with sympathy and the other with curiosity.

The girl herself had turned a light pink and turned her face away from them, almost blankly staring at an opposing wall ornament.

"How harsh," Daphne's mother said with a note of malice.

The silence was drenched in murderous intent (to the point even Orion felt a cold sweat) and stretched for what seemed like ages. He was afraid if he even whispered something to the others, they'd be found out.

"I... apologise, Diana. That was ill-mannered of me to say," Mrs Winikus seemingly buckled after a few moments, her voice restrained and somewhat hesitant-sounding.

"Yet, you have..." Mrs Greengrass said coldly, lifting her teacup for a sip.

Mrs Malfoy cleared her throat. "Ladies. Why must you always be at each others' throats," she sighed imploringly, leaning forward in her chair. "Can't we have a book session without any arguments for once...? And, please, we ought to leave the children out of this terrible spite at least..."

"I said I was sorry," the brunette witch said with a lining of guilt.

"Ah, yes, because you're above it all, aren't you, Narcissa?" Mrs Greengrass drawled instead, placing her teacup and saucer of the table with a bit of a clatter.

Mrs Malfoy paused. "I don't know what you mean," she replied, and Orion could picture the frown on her face just by her tone of voice.

"Yes, that's the most unfortunate thing, isn't it...? You don't." Mrs Greengrass sounded too sweet to be sincere. "Most tragedies are born out of ignorance, and sadly you are... well... blissfully full to the brim." She leaned back in her chair. "I could stand it. I stand dear Phylis'..."

"Thank you so much," Mrs Winikus said dryly.

"...But, I'm not in the mood to tolerate you thinking you're perfect just because you act that way." Daphne's mother leaned back in her chair with her arm lounging on the armrest. "Oh, no offence intended, of course."

Remaining silent for a few moments, Mrs Malfoy lifted the teacup from her saucer and bent down a little to take another sip. "...Is that so?" she asked, slowly setting the teacup and saucer down on the able, tracing the golden rim with a well-manicured finger. "And, what is this 'ignorance' you're not in the mood for, Diana...? I'm afraid I'd quite like to know."

"Need I remind you last week you were going on about what a 'nuisance' that, ah, little Black bastard was?" Mrs Greengrass chimed, folding her legs and resting her hands on her lap. Orion winced. "I mean..." She tsked. "He accidentally turned your dress orange at the Berrow's party and, well... you had a full rave about him."

It figures that'd they'd talk about him.

Everyone always did.

Even someone as kind as Mrs Malfoy couldn't help herself. She just had to talk about him, about how much of a disappointment he was.

"Uh, yeah, your wording was very choice..." Mrs Winikus said awkwardly, lifting her teacup to take another sip.

"Very choice, indeed," Mrs Greengrass agreed swiftly.

Mrs Malfoy folded her arms. "Was it really, Phylis?"

"Well, it wasn't just over the dress, I mean. There have been other things..." Mrs Winikus said, and Mrs Greengrass nodded like a secret friend. "Nothing we should care to repeat..." Straining his neck, Orion just caught pink lips curling into a frown. "...But, the way you were talking, sometimes I'm surprised you'd so vehemently took him in the first place."

He could practically feel Viscaria and Daphne's eyes pounding into his head.

"Really, you're so changeable, Narcissa," Mrs Greengrass sighed a long-suffering sigh after a moment's silence. "What made you stop wanting to raise the child?"

"I didn't stop wanting to raise the child," Mrs Malfoy snapped. "Do you think I'm a ditz who flits from once fancy to another...?" Mrs Greengrass and Mrs Winikus said nothing. "You do, do you...?" Mrs Malfoy's hands gripped her chair harder. "...He's just not what I expected when I first took him in - and I've had a tad of trouble dealing with that. Merlin forbid, we can't all be perfect."

Mrs Winikus coughed. "Huh, what were you expecting...?"

Orion knew he didn't want to hear it.

He did not want to know how much less he was than what he should have been.

Before Viscaria and Daphne could even react, he was stumbling half-way down the corridor despite his stiff legs from laying on the floor.

* * *

He was sitting under an old oak tree in one of the gardens, his knees pulled up to his chest and his head bowed.

"You look pretty sad. What? Don't you like us anymore?"

Orion looked up to see Viscaria looking at him curiously.

He looked away. "It's not that."

She folded her arms, lips twisted into a pout. "Don't lie, idiot. If you liked us, you wouldn't find an excuse to be here all the time," she pointed out, her eyes roving the area arrogantly. "Really, what's so great about this place...?"

"Okay, maybe it is that," he sighed dryly. She glared at him, making him backtrack a little. "Okay, fine. It's just, ah, m-Mrs-your mum... your mum. You heard what she said back there..." She gave him a look. "...And, well..." He swallowed. "...your dad doesn't really like me much either. It's unfair."

She sighed, crouching down carefully so the hem of her dress didn't brush against the dirty ground. "Remember what mum said? He's just stressed, and she must be too," she said as if it was obvious. "It's probably Draco's fault, anyway. He's always crying and moaning." She stuck up her nose. "He always makes a mess and, heh, he speaks pretty stupidly."

"Then, why don't they just take it out on Draco?" he groaned, throwing his arms up before he slumped further against tree trunk.

"Because, he's just a little kid, silly," she stressed as if they were much older, shaking her head like he was an idiot. "They're all supposed to be stupid and annoying like that; then they grow out of it."

"And, if he doesn't...?"

Viscaria looked like she'd swallowed something unpleasant. "Don't even joke about that," she snapped, giving him a fierce glare.

Orion grinned a little. "Aw, what...? Are you going to bury him alive? I remember your mum said how when Draco was born, you looked at him, and said..." He then made his voice more high pitched and whimsical. "...'Mummy, oh it's a monster - we should bury him'…"

She blushed. "Shut up!"

Orion chuckled for a few moments, but was cut-off when she suddenly grabbed his arm, roughly pulled him to his feet with all her strength.

"What are you doing?" he squawked, but didn't really bother to put up a fight. She paid no mind, beginning to drag him across the garden, him almost tripping on the cobblestone, to Merlin knows where. "Ugh, watch it...! Where are we going, Viscaria?"

"You'll see," she said, pulling him forward roughly.

They soon came to one of the nearby hills at the very edge of the estate, a wild sight from the well-manicured and extravagant yard that Narcissa made the House-Elves care for forever. The hill was steep, with ivory, weeds and a few lilies growing over the left side mostly, while the right was mostly just wild grass with a few jagged rocks peaking out from the undergrowth. There were even some nettles about, which he didn't quite fancy.

Taking some initiative and managing to slip his hand from Viscaria's grasp, flexing it, he stepped back from Viscaria who just continued further on the wild hill without a care in the world.

"Viscaria..." he said warily.

Viscaria let out a huge sigh, flopping down on the steep, grassy verge with her arms splayed like an angel, uncaring that h_er _summer dress and cardigan were going to be stained by the moist grass.

She grinned, tilting her head daringly. "Aren't you coming?"

Orion looked up at her, uneasily. "We're not supposed to be here, Viscaria. We've already been caught this morning," he warned, wringing his hands nervously. He let out a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. "...You're father-"

"My father won't know anything like always. Mum never tells no matter what she says," she said arrogantly, sticking up her little nose. "Not unless someone tells him, that is." She paused, looking at him, as her voice took a mocking higher pitch. "You won't tell him, will you, _Orion_...?"

"Hah, please..." he snorted, giving her a bitter look. "He'd probably blame me, anyway." He sighed. "...Just get down from there already before you hurt yourself!"

She paid no mind, chuckling loudly as her hair whipped about in the wind, she pushed herself to her feet and began trudging up the hillside. "You'll have to stop me yourself," she laughed, her voice becoming fainter as she went. "I might just hurt myself..."

As soon as she disappeared over the edge, Orion felt his little feet bolt into actions as he carried on after her.

Why did she have to be so difficult? Then again, he'd learned 'being difficult' was a Malfoy's forte.

He slipped on a patch of mud, and his right knee collided with the ground. Letting out a gasp, and gritting his teeth, he grasped the strands of slippery grass to prevent himself from slipping a little down the hill and propelled himself forthright on his left foot.

He should probably focus more on the now and less on everything else.

Gaining speed, he sprinted, being careful to dodge some rocks hidden beneath the wild, uneven grass that seemed to go up to his knees or his waist, and managed to reach the top of the hill out-of-breath, bent-over and heaving for more air.

Ugh.

Running was hard.

"Took you long enough," Viscaria's voice rang, and he turned to see her leaning against a worn-looking well, looking at him smugly. "I bet even Draco could run faster than that and he's..." She scrunched up her face. "...well, Draco."

After panting for a few more moments, Orion awkwardly straightened up. "You had a head-start," he snapped, feeling more energised to the point he was up for glaring at her really accusingly. "It wasn't fair-"

"You let me have a head-start," she retorted, looking at him with that same smug expression. "Maybe you should be less of a slow-poke."

Orion opened his mouth reply, closed it, and then let out a frustrated growl. "Whatever, Viscaria!" he snapped, folding his arms. "What are we even doing here...?" he asked after a few moments of grating silence.

"Well, slow-poke, I brought you up to show you something," she said, sounding a little giddy, as she reached into the old well, shuffled about a little and then she seemed to pull out something. Orion swore he saw a glimpse of gold in her hands. "...And, someone..."

She opened her palms and there was a...

"A bird...?" Orion asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

And, what a bird it was.

Fat and round like a golden ball, with a narrow beak and eyes as red a rubies. And, while he couldn't call it pretty or majestic a sight, he had to admit the bird had a presence – even if it was just due to its oddity. He also noticed that one of its wings was bent a little crooked.

Ouch.

He winced.

"You don't know what it is…?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Orion half-heartedly racked his brain. "Uhh… no."

"It's a Golden Snidget… silly," she said, obviously catching herself from calling the usual 'idiot' because she was nice like that. She rolled her eyes as she held the injured bird practically in his face. "It's really fragile, and rare." She stroked its head lightly, pouting. "They used to use them before Snitches, and you can imagine what happened then."

"And…?" Orion asked slowly, already bored.

"Do remember what happened a few weeks ago?" Viscaria asked, grinning in delight. "Do you remember what I did…? Well…"

Orion stopped himself from frowning.

How could he forget?

It made him green with envy.

The day that Viscaria had held a dead rose in her palm, shriveled and broken, and brought it back to life even more vibrant than it probably ever had been before. And, then an apple just to show off.

Mr Malfoy had been full of pride. Much more pride than Orion had ever seen directed at him. Even Mrs Malfoy had managed to detach herself from dotting on Draco to lavish Viscaria with praises and promises of rewards.

No one had done that when Orion had accidentally turned Mrs Malfoy's dress orange.

Which had been much impressive in his opinion. But, no, everyone cared more about a stupid flower and a stupid apple.

A flit of bright gold appeared and Viscaria's irritated voice broke him from his sulking. "You missed it, you idiot. You weren't even watching," she snapped, a scowl on her face, as she pointed at the sky. "Look!"

Orion stared.

The Golden Snidget was soaring through the air, its small wings a flapping blur as it flew away and into the distance and over the horizon.

"I've been practicing with apples and tomatoes for weeks, and weeks," Viscaria said, grinning at his dumbstruck face. "And, then I find Caltia on the ground... and, well…" she trailed off, her grin broadening. "So, what do you think…?"

"Caltia?" Orion snorted in his hands. "You named it that?"

Viscaria put her hand on her side, looking at him with a scowl. "What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped, raising her chin defiantly at him. "I'll have you know Caltia is a beautiful name, and I bet that Caltia will find a nest of other Golden Snidget and they'll be so impressed they'll make her their leader just like that."

"Either that or they'll make her the Court Jester," Orion said, shaking his head.

Viscaria folded her arms, a smile creeping on her face. "If you don't accept that Caltia is a perfectly fine name, then next time we play Courts &amp; Dragons, you will be the Court Jester," she threatened, and Orion paled. "And, hah, that means we all can throw stuff at you."

"But, I'm a warrior-" Orion protested.

"And, I'm Queen," Viscaria interrupted, smirking.

Orion scowled, folding his arms.

He was not going to get mud thrown at him again.

"Fine, Caltia is the best name ever," he compliment, putting his hand to his chest.

Viscaria put her hand to chest, looking at him in faux gratefulness. "Why, thank you, Orion. I picked it myself," she said airily, flicking a strand of hair behind her ear and then fixing him a smirk.

"Viscaria! Orion!" Mrs Malfoy's voice called.

They froze.

Mrs Malfoy had been a little frustrated that they'd gone out of bounds a few days this week, again.

She admonished them; it was something about them breaking their limbs and no one being around to help them, but Miss Galster had to them to 'Carpe Diem' after their lesson with her and they'd done just that!

"...I have told twice too many..."

Seize the day!

"...It's dangerous, don't...?"

He frowned.

They were always fine when they went out of bounds. Nothing happened that Mrs Malfoy couldn't just whip out her wand (he really couldn't wait for one of those!) and clean them up with some charm in a blink.

Viscaria also had a scream that could scare a giant. The Birthday fiasco still gave him ear ache.

"...If you go out of bounds again, I might have to tell Mr Malfoy about this," Mrs Malfoy said stiffly, looking at them sharply. "...Is that understood?" Both Orion and Viscaria nodded. "I said: 'is that understood'?"

"Yes, mum."

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry."

She gave them a look. "That's what I like to hear. For your sake, I hope you follow through with it."

* * *

**A.N: Yeah, I've been changing these chapters quite a bit because I'm not satisfied with them! Also, a special thank you Toraach for pointing out a few blunders I made, I've corrected them****  
**


	7. Chapter 6: Red Web

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 6: Red Web**

* * *

**28th October, 1986**

* * *

**Orion.**

It started off like any other day.

He'd gone to sleep last night and woke up without remembering anything in the middle.

Orion woke up very slowly. In fact, he didn't even want to leave his bed, a bed so comfortable you felt like you were sleeping on a warm, dry ocean. He could stay here for- was that breakfast? Groaning and turning between the sheets, he practically push himself off the bed, flung open his wardrobe and got dressed in a simple sweater, trousers and socks.

Trying to stifle his yawns and rubbing his eye once or twice to wipe the sleep away, he ambled down to breakfast.

"Hello... uh, Dab-Dobby," he said half-heartedly as he passed the Elf.

Dobby flinched for some reason. "...Oh, ah, g-good morning, Maaster Orion!"

Pushing the doors to the breakfast room open and managing to ignore Mrs Malfoy's disapproving look, he sat down in his seat at the table and feasted his eyes on the delicious spread on silver plates and bowls. The sizzling, big sausages, buttered bread and toast, croissants with syrup, raisins or both, bacon spread, poached eggs, beans, mash and more.

Merlin, just looking at it always made his stomach almost strangle itself in bliss.

It made Kreacher's food look like rubbish.

"Be careful not to drool all over he food, idiot," Viscaria whispered from the corner of her smirking mouth, as she poured a jug of orange juice into her goblet.

He used his fork to pick up a few sausages, strands of bacon and some egg, he began to eat.

"Late night, Orion?" Mrs Malfoy said suspiciously.

"No, ma'am. I'm just not much of a morning person, sorry," Orion lied as smoothly as he could.

Mrs Malfoy gave him a semi-amused smile. "That excuse might work better if there was consistent evidence," she said, a lining of warning in her voice. "Don't let it happen, again."

Mr Malfoy was sipping his morning tea, flipping the pages of his newspaper and making some odd comments. Orion glimpsed bold headlines of all sorts - '_...THE VOX MAGI A PRODUCT OF THE B.W.M...?', '__...MURDER OF PROMINENT..._', '...LOCAL WIZARD DISAPPEARS_...!_' - although, Mr Malfoy seemed to be a quick reader because he kept flipping the page before Orion could get a proper look.

"...Moron, when will he realise that being silent is an answer in itself..."

Orion's eyes strained for some information about the world, but Lucius kept moving and flipping through the paper, so he gave up trying to read in frustration.

"...Can't believe he got it through..." Mr Malfoy sneered, taking a long sip, almost gulp, of his tea. His hands tightening his cup, and his sneer becoming more disgusted. "Bagnold's leading the Ministry into the sewer if Arthur Weasley can..."

Ah, those people.

Out of all the people in the world, it was very likely that Mr Malfoy hated the Weasleys the most (and Orion had a feeling Mr Malfoy hated a lot of people). Every time the name was mentioned, Mr Malfoy would show the most expression in one moment than he did in a week. Yes, it was typically an expression of at least loathing and disgust, but an expression.

"Now dear, no need to discuss politics at the table," Mrs Malfoy said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

Mr Malfoy gave her a tight smile. "As my wife commands."

Viscaria and Orion exchanged looks.

Draco continued to happily stuff his face, obliviously.

"I should think so," Mrs Malfoy said, taking a sip of her tea and giving her husband a sparing glance.

There was a silence. Not that it was usual for them to eat in that silence after a few words here and there. But, it didn't last long because, well...

With the hoot of an owl, a shocking blur crashed into the table.

"What the-!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!"

"Merlin's beard!"

"Mum, I've got feathers in-"

"Oh dear..."

The grandfatherly owl picking itself up from the mash fur was a mixture of a light brown, some white (or, maybe that was the milk?), and dotted with strips of black. Its discontent eyes were orange, its brow arching and a bit of bacon was hanging off its black peak.

It was odd.

"Rasmus..." Mr Malfoy said as if the man had personally spat in his food (or, more accurately, thrown an owl in it), furiously wiping the bit of tea that had sloshed on his suit.

Orion raised an eyebrow.

Rasmus...?

Who was that, again?

Mrs Malfoy frowned, shifting in her seat as she wiped her wet hand with her napkin. "Yes, it does seem to have his token of affection," she remarked in irritation as she reached for the letter tied to the owl's leg and began to untie it. "The amount of times we've told him to stop sending dodgy owls with too much to carry. Merlin, it gives me a headache."

"He does this deliberately," Mr Malfoy sneered as he began to roughly unstrap the boxes strapped to the owl's back, making it squawk at him. "With these weighing him down, I'm surprised it made it as far as England. Too bad it didn't just drown in the channel to give us one less headache."

Mrs Malfoy began to undo the seal on the envelope, before stopping. "Well... I think it's inappropriate to do this at the table. Children, why don't you make your way over to the drawing room and then we'll read it and open what I'm assuming are some presents?" she said, clapping her hands to signal the House-Elves into making the presents to disappear. "Well, go on... it's not like breakfast has much going for it now."

With the sound of shuffling and screeching chair legs, Orion, Viscaria and Draco all stood up from their chairs and began to leave the room.

Orion frowned as they walked down the hallway, finally getting the courage to speak. "Who's Rasmus?" he whispered to Viscaria, looking at her curiously. "Is he a family friend or something...?"

"He's my uncle," Viscaria informed, smiling. "That means he's my father's brother, Orion."

"I know what 'uncle' means," Orion said in annoyance.

"Well, of course you do, I've just told you," Viscaria retorted with an arrogant smirk on her face.

Orion opened his mouth to reply, shut it and then scowled. "You do that on purpose..." he muttered, shaking his head and letting out a long sigh. "So, he's your uncle... is he nice?" he added, awkwardly, as they stepped through the threshold and into the Drawing Room.

Viscaria paused, looking thoughtful. "Well, he's my uncle..." she said slowly, then she rolled her eyes. "Of course, I like him. He's family."

"Really...?" Orion said, unconvinced.

"Why wouldn't anyone like uncle? He's funny and he gets us stuff!" Draco pitched in, looking at them like they were both idiots.

She glared at them, before letting loose a sigh. "Dad and mum don't like him. I've heard them," she said, looking a little nervous. Orion arched an eyebrow and Draco just looked stunned at this 'revelation'. "Well, let's say, they think he's a disgrace - it's best I keep my distance."

"But, you just said you liked him," Draco pointed out, looking confused. "And, mummy and daddy do like him!" he added a second later with an excusing look. "He's family!"

Viscaria looked a little uncomfortable for a moment before her face grew haughtier. "No, mother and father don't like him," she said, fixing Draco a distasteful look. "Are you say mother and father are wrong...?"

"But, they never said we couldn't..." Draco broke off, as the door creaked open and Mrs Malfoy strode in with the envelope in her hands, while House-Elves appearing suddenly appeared in the room and heaving the boxes onto a table before disappearing just like that. "...Hello, mummy."

Mrs Malfoy smiled at the sight of them. "Sorry, it took so long, darlings. Just had to sort out that mess," she said, taking a seat at the table were all the gifts were. "Now, let's see what your Uncle Rasmus has to say..." She opened up the letter and began to read the parchment silently for a few moments, before sighing and beginning to speak aloud. "'_To my dearest family. I hear our new member Orion Black has been settling in quite well... __This is an occasion worth us all celebrating. So, my children and I have decided to pick out gifts to do our part..." _Mrs Malfoy picked up a pink package with a red and white striped bow, inscribed in extravagant black scrawl Viscaria's name and passed it to her. "_'__For Viscaria, my dearest niece __I give a special gift I'm sure you will love'_..."

Viscaria untied the bow and carelessly tossed the lid to the side. She fished out a chalk-white doll in a puffy, frilly green, button dress and a oily black mane of ringlets - one which parted its smiling, pink lips and suddenly let out a flurry of high-pitched giggles that made Orion jump. Its dull brown eyes flickered side-to-side, blinking once or twice and wide like a surprised doe.

"Hmm, well, what am I going to name you? " Viscaria remarked, smirking and beginning to fiddle with the thing. The doll made choked out very faint gasps as she twisted its limbs about. "Hah... I'll call you Amata."

Orion snorted in his hands. "Really...?"

"What?" Viscaria said, folding her arms and scowling at him. "It's a nice name!"

"First, you've named three dolls that already and you stole it from Fountain of Fair Fortune," Orion said, shaking his head at her lack of imagination. "I mean, call it something else, Merlin."

Viscaria paused, thinking for a moments. "Um, well..." she began irritably, her brow creasing as she paused for another few moments. "Well, well what about..." she broke off, her face turning a little pink and a sneer curling on her lip. "...I hate you."

Mrs Malfoy chuckled. "...How about, Oriana?"

Orion paused while Draco broke out in sniggers right next to him.

You know, that kind of sounded like his name...?

"Of course, it does kind of look like him," Viscaria said, smiling smugly.

"...Wait!? What...? Hey!" Orion blurted out, eyes widening and face heating up. "That... that..." He inspected it. "...That does not look anything like me."

"It kind of does," Draco said, tapping his chin and grinning from ear to ear.

Orion scowled, opening his mouth to say something-

Mrs Malfoy cleared her throat, shuffling the parchment in her hand. "_'This doll is of limited edition and has quite the history. Made in 1873, this is part of a rare selection of dolls model after venerable wizards and witches'_," Mrs Malfoy read as Viscaria's smile got a little bigger. "_'This one is rumoured to have been modeled off Francoise Delour, who's ethereal beauty supposedly drove men and women to the brink of insanity'..._" Mrs Malfoy sighed, shaking her head at the morbid words. "_'I hope you'll like it very much_. _Thank my dear daughters Vérène and Esthère for having a great pair of eyes'_."

Viscaria stared at the doll, awestruck. "Wizard."

Mrs Malfoy gave Viscaria a vaguely amused but concerned look before she continued. "..._'For Draco, my dearest nephew, my sons Armand and Aillard have come together and got you the most amusing gift'_," she said, absently picking up a long, thin trunk of a green box and offered it to Draco. "_'I imagine you'll being having quite the time'_." Draco practically ripped the gift from his mother's arms, greedily ripping the packaging off and feasting his eyes on the thin, sleek brown of a frame of a mini-broomstick. "_'It's a toy broomstick - we all know you'll be a Quidditch star'_."

A smirk lit up the blond boy's face like a Christmas tree.

Orion had a feeling Draco would be even more annoying for the next few days.

"_'For Orion, I behest a gift beyond compare'_," Mrs Malfoy read, and Orion felt his excitement rise as a large, squarish package of black wrappings tied together by a silver ribbon was handed to him.

"Thank you, ma'am," Orion said as he took the present, staring at it for a moment or two, before he began to slowly unwrap it, considerately dropping each piece of wrapping paper into the nearby silver bin instead of just dropping it on the floor. All the while, Draco was peering over his shoulder and Viscaria was tapping her foot impatiently at his slow progress.

Ripping off the last large piece of paper, he stared at his gift.

It was a dark, leather-skinned, medium-sized book with silver letters imprinted on the covers.

Viscaria snorted.

"Boring," Draco muttered, quickly going back to admiring his mini-broomstick.

"_The History of the Blacks, by Charis Crouch,_" Orion read, scrutinizing the book.

Mrs Malfoy's smile dimmed for a second, looking the book over. "'_This book is what will make you truly know who you are and that is priceless. It's more imperative than you know to understand your name and the blood running through your veins, simply priceless'_," she read, pursing her lips. "_'Know where you come from as any pure-blood should never forget'_." Mrs Malfoy paused thoughtfully, before she smiled widely. "Isn't that very kind of him... Orion?"

Orion nodded. "Yes, ma'am. It's very kind of him."

Even though he was grateful for the gift, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed since he'd already read enough books for a lifetime. Still, books could be really interesting, like historical ones for instance - and, even better, bedtime stories like fairy tales, of course - although, it look like he was getting the former this time.

Mrs Malfoy smile was fixed perfectly on her face. "You wouldn't mind if I just... kept a hold of it just a little? I've been meaning to read up a little," she said in a very sincere voice. "I'm a Black too, after all." She chuckled and the sound almost reminded him of a wind chime rattling in a light breeze. "Oh please, dear. I won' t keep it long, just a day or two."

Well, there was nothing wrong with that.

He guessed Mrs Malfoy must have been around the Malfoys so long she was a little rusty with her roots.

Orion nodded, handing the book back to her awaiting palm. "It's fine, Mrs Malfoy. You can have it as long as you want." A moment after he said it, he noticed Viscaria was staring at him strangely from the corner of his eye. "What is it, Viscaria...?" he whispered when he sure Mrs Malfoy was distracted. "Do I have something on my face, again?"

Viscaria raised an eyebrow, giving him a vaguely confused look.

Orion sighed, deciding to drop it.

"Oh, and Orion...?" Mrs Malfoy's voice came. "Before I forget..."

* * *

He was nervously standing - or more accurately jittering on his own two feet and wringing his hands so much it was a surprise the skin didn't rub off - outside the imposingly heavy, double doors of Mr Malfoy's Study with his knuckle an inch from the wood. He hadn't even knocked yet.

What did Mr Malfoy want...?

Well, he took a breath, he wouldn't be getting any answers standing out here. Garnering up as much courage as he could, he raised his knuckle and briskly knocked on the hard, cool surface.

At first he was unsure if Mr Malfoy had heard him, but eventually there was a muffled drawl. "Come in..."

Letting out a breath, he pushed the doors open.

Most of the Study was lined with the fine, colourful spines of books carefully slotted into a mahogany, gracefully-carved, ebony inlaid bookcase. He could make out some of the tiny letters on the many books and a lot of them were certainly a mouthful: _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, __Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don't Deserve to Live, __The Decline of Pagan Magic_, and so on.

There were also some imposing portraits featuring dignified-looking wizards and severe-looking witches, who's eyes seemed to hone onto Orion as soon as he stepped past the threshold of the door, on most of the walls not lined with bookcases.

Towards the back of the room, Mr Malfoy's was sitting at his desk towards the back of the room and facing away from Orion. From what he could see, there were a pile of books neatly set to the side, and few bits of parchment, some with a few stamps, on the desk. Mr Malfoy's was busy with something, he seemed to be writing something with some determination, dipping his quill into his inkpot every once and a while.

Orion thought for a moment that maybe Mr Malfoy just hadn't noticed.

Then, he felt like slapping himself.

Was he an idiot?

Of course Mr Malfoy had, since he not only summoned him but just invited him in.

Eventually and thankfully since Orion had felt himself begin to sweat, Mr Malfoy sighed, turned round in his wooden, swivel chair to face him and standing up. "Orion, it's good to see you," Mr Malfoy said, looking him over before giving him a curt smile. "I've been meaning to talk to you for a while now. But, busy, of course." He gestured to the piles of parchment and letters on his desk. "The consequence of a big job, I'm afraid."

"What do you do, Mr Malfoy?" Orion asked curiously, twiddling his thumbs.

Mr Malfoy gave him a surveying look, putting his hands behind his back. "Don't twiddle your thumbs, it's an unfittingly bad habit," he reprimanded, and Orion stopped immediately and stood up straighter. "...Thank you." Mr Malfoy smiled. "You see, Orion. As a member of this household, I was... very curious as to how you're fitting in with us... hmm, you are fitting in very well, do you think?"

Orion nodded slowly. "Yes, very well, Mr Malfoy."

"Very good," Mr Malfoy said, waving his hands dismissively. "And, there's no need to call me 'Mr Malfoy' all the time. 'Sir' will do just fine."

"Yes, sir," Orion replied promptly.

Mr Malfoy nodded, giving him an appraising look that seemed to make Orion's insides glow. "I suppose you're wondering why I've summoned you here," he said, looking him over with the hint of a smile which made Orion want to shudder. Mr Malfoy cleared his throat, making Orion hastily nod in agreement. "...It's very simple. I want to talk about you about the Blacks, that family of yours."

"Okay, yes, Mr Malfoy..." Orion trailed off, unsure if he was suppose to speak or not.

Mr Malfoy's smile widened, although it a had a quality to it that reminded Orion of his grandmother for a moment. "I trust this has been very difficult - adjusting. But, I should warn you that the Blacks aren't your solace... you know that, right?"

Orion frowned.

Was this going to be another insulting-the-Black-family fest...?

"...Yes, sir," he lied, trying to sound convincing but likely failing.

"Of course you would. You're a smart boy, aren't you?" Mr Malfoy drawled, and Orion opened his mouth to respond but Mr Malfoy waved him silent. "It must be difficult, yes, having two families, hmm? Two loyalties that may conflict?" Orion remained silent, unsure of what to say. "...Yes, difficult, isn't it...? I've been thinking I ought to be of a little help and make things clearer for you - since you've been thinking about it ever since you got here, haven't you?"

Orion blushed a little, setting his lips in an apprehensive line. "I wouldn't say that, Mr Malfoy."

"You wouldn't. But, you think it," Mr Malfoy said, folding his arms behind his back and raising his pointed chin. "There's no need to pretend. I'd think it too... if I hadn't heard the full story, myself."

"Full story, sir?" Orion asked, his brow creasing.

Mr Malfoy nodded, his grey eyes kind and sympathetic. "My mother managed to tell you a bit of it, but unfortunately she was interrupted," he said with a flicker of irritation twitching his lip. "My wife is a kindred spirit and she was right to whisk you off to bed. There are some stories that help sleep and others that keep you awake - and, you wouldn't have had a good night's rest if we had."

That really didn't sound reassuring at all.

And, despite how he wished he could leave right now...

"Mr Malfoy, what's the full story?" Orion asked a little bluntly.

Mr Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "Hmm, impatient and blunt... interesting," he said, stepping closer to Orion and shadowing him with his tallness. "Your mother was like that. Your father, too. Headstrong, haha..." He smiled in amusement. "...Oh, he was headstrong... talented..." Mr Malfoy's lip twitched. "...and of one of the finest bloods, wouldn't you agree?"

"Well, wouldn't know, sir, besides the last one... I guess, sir," he replied thoughtfully and awkwardly.

"Right..." Mr Malfoy patted him on the shoulder, making him flinch. "Do you want to know how your family turned their face from you father - and, how he ended up in Azkaban...? Not even curiously? About how your grandmother never mentioned them?"

Orion stared at Mr Malfoy.

What was this...?

"No, thank you... I'm not curious, Mr Malfoy," Orion said, trying to keep the apprehension out of his voice.

Mr Malfoy raised his hand, chuckling. "You're not a good liar, Orion. Not like your grandfather, but I suppose nobody could be that good," he drawled, shaking his head and giving Orion a pitying look he didn't like. "...Haven't you ever wondered about all those burned off patches on that quaint family tree, Orion? Did your grandmother ever mention what they meant?"

Orion paused, frowning.

When she was sober, not really. But, when she had drank a little, she'd swear them 'traitors', 'disgraces' and some other badder words he was supposed to forget.

"Traitors..." Orion said quietly, realising that Mr Malfoy expected a response.

"Ah, yes, traitors." And, the way Mr Malfoy said made Orion feel a strange sickness well up inside him. "Yet, your father was on that list, wasn't he...? Isn't it curious that your father, a Black who served the Dark Lord as his right-hand man and fought against muggles, beasts and blood-traitors alike for a better world would be branded a traitor like that by his own family?"

"...Yes," Orion replied awkwardly, stifling the bad habit to rub the back of his neck.

"Doesn't that seem strange and unfair, my boy?" Mr Malfoy added almost dramatically.

Orion looked at Mr Malfoy strangely. "Uh, yes... sir?"

"When the wrong side wins, all you get is funny lies," Mr Malfoy said, looking very disdainful. "The Ministry has given up their value, letting them all in just to get more labour. Misguided fools have stripped away the rights of pure-bloods for decades... to cater to these ingrates whims." But, didn't Mr Malfoy work for the Ministry...? "Imagine that? It's as if someone puts a troll in your bed, makes it eat at your table and pick his teeth with your fork..." Orion wrinkled his nose. "...because, it would be nicer for the troll despite it being your house."

Orion felt like he should probably speak. "That is strange and unfair."

"Like your father, I've been trying to better the world to stop our kind from dying out." He tilted his head, arching an eyebrow. "You do know the threat Muggles, blood-traitors, beastly creatures and Mudbloods pose to our world?" he added sharply, giving him a look.

Orion flinched, nodding. "Yes..." he began, trying to muster up some backbone. "...Yes, of course," he said much more strongly. "They're a threat to our culture, our traditions and the peaceful society we had managed to achieve before they ruined everything," he recalled, feeling a lot more confident.

"Yes, very good..." And, Orion almost glowed. "Your father is an unsung hero," Mr Malfoy said, grimacing, as he patted him a little roughly on the shoulder. "Yet, your family turned their back on him and by extension you. They wrongly blamed him for the Dark Lords fall, in a way, I suppose." Orion felt his heart sink. "False, of course. The Dark Lord sought out to eliminated the Potters Pawns, lackeys of his eldest enemies. Your father had dutifully supplied him the information - if the Dark Lord had lived, your father would be considered a hero, but he didn't."

Orion's stomach twisted - it made sense. "So, what you're saying... is my father has been?" Orion paused, searching for the right words. "...Wrongly slandered by them?"

Mr Malfoy nodded. "Your family abandoned this man to save face. It didn't matter the good he had done in his life, one mistake and they turned their backs on him," he said, looking disgusted by the very notion and Orion felt a little like that too. "That's what the Blacks have become. All about money and all about power, not principle, not morality and if anyone, even if accidentally, even if it's their blood, who gets in the way will suffer - and what bigger traitor is that."

Orion gulped, trying to squash the image of his grandmother with her monstrous beads, curling red lips and glittering eyes flitting through his mind. "...W-w-why are you telling me this, s-sir?" Orion asked, stepping back, scrunching up her face and looking up at the man with wide eyes.

"Why? I should think that is a little obvious, Orion," Mr Malfoy said, his lip curling a little.

"What..." Orion's eyes and voiced hardened. "...what do you want?" he demanded, his voice turning almost guttural voice, gritting his teeth.

"Ah, it's all about loyalty. What we expect," Mr Malfoy said coolly, and Orion felt like he'd been struck by lightening. "What should I expect from a boy with a family like that? My wife loves you like a son, and I am fond of you... but, what should I expect?" Mr Malfoy gave him a trouble look. "If the Blacks turn on us... what would you do then, Orion Black?"

Orion looked at Mr Malfoy, gobsmacked.

He didn't know what to say. How to even react.

Orion took a large gulp of air, his entire body heating up as he rubbed he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to speak. "We-Well, I... uh..." he gulped again, looking away. "I don't know what... I don't... I, I, Mr Malfoy." As he gaped, his hands shook like a leaf. "I don't know what to-" he stopped, cutting himself off.

His legs felt like jelly.

Mr Malfoy sighed, almost rolling his eyes, before the man gave him a patronising smile. "It was wrong of me to suggest that you'd be anything but a good person," he said, crouching down to his level. "I just have to make sure you understand, Orion, your position." He touched Orion's shoulder. "I just want you to know, be happy and make the right choices for you."

His piercing grey eyes...

Orion felt like a bug under a spyglass.

"Yes..." Orion said as strongly as he could, trying to look him in the eye and failing. "I understand, Mr Malfoy."

Mr Malfoy straightened up, giving him a paper-thin smile. "I'm glad we could have this talk, Orion," he drawled. "Why don't we keep this conversation between us for now...?" Orion nodded, slowly. Mr Malfoy smiled brighter and it made Orion feel a little less at wand-point. "I knew I could count on you. I hope you enjoy the party."

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy," Orion said dutifully.

"Your dismissed."

And, Orion left quite quickly after that

* * *

The first Malfoy party he'd ever been to was overwhelming. The sheer swing of all these Wizarding aristrocrats gathered together, to indulge and talk.

Orion nodded. "I see."

"...And, I've got to say it was really hot..." And, one thing he learned about Darius since they'd first met, was that he never stopped talking. Really, he didn't! "...On fire. That was really bad, but mum said..."

Orion nodded again. "Hmm."

Darius Berrow could talk about the world let alone a few people. "...But, it was so worth it. We even got to see the Basque Witch execution site, where evil Muggles..." Darius continued to waffle, very animated in his gestures, with a toothy grin on his face.

"Yes," Orion said half-heartedly, nodding again and he wouldn't be surprised if his head fell off from his head at this point.

Not to say it was entirely terrible. Orion had never been on holiday, especially abroad, so it was interesting.

Darius had gone to the place of his mother's roots, Spain. He and his family had stayed with his aunt Violante (wasn't it?) and his cousins, and done everything and more there.

Orion wondered if the Malfoys could go on holiday sometime.

After all, Rasmus Malfoy lived in France and they must have to visit the man... eventually.

Although, even if he never went on holiday, it wouldn't be the end of the world. For luxury and relaxation, the Malfoys already had that in spades... mostly. And, Orion already sweated enough in Summer let alone some tropical sun - and although he kind of liked the winter at times, he didn't well enough to go somewhere even colder than England.

Still, he guessed he just wanted to try it.

See what was out there for once.

"...And then, of course, I just had to see the-"

Irfan Mustaq, a dark-skinned boy with black hair and light brown eyes, snorted, shaking his head. "Darius, we get it, you had a great time in Spain," he said, rolling his eyes. "Now, will you shut up? You've been talking about it for ten minutes..."

Darius' face flickered with irritation before it settled on an arrogant smirk. "Because it's interesting, _Irfie_," he said, his voice gaining that strangely smooth quality to it. "You don't get it, Spain is just a beautifully-"

"Boring place that I don't care about," Irfan snapped, sending Darius a glare. "And, don't call be 'Irfie', idiot."

"Sticks and stones may hurt my bones, but words will never hurt me," Darius mocked, looking rather smug as he leaned against one of the marble pillars. Then, he paused, frowning. "Just ignore the part about sticks and stones, though... that could be messy."

"Oh, it will be," Irfan threatened, grinning.

Darius glared. "You wouldn't dare..."

Orion was watching the theatrics until he felt an insistent tapping on his shoulder. It was Viscaria, who was looking a little unsure for the first time ever.

"I need to talk to you," Viscaria whispered to Orion, eyeing Darius and Irfan, who were still going back and forth, warily.

"...You suck so much..."

"...You suck way more than me..."

"...But, you admit you suck, idiot..."

"...You're the idiot. Moron..."

"...Well, if I'm an 'idiot', how can I be a 'moron'...?"

"...Ugh, I hate you..."

Orion turned back to Viscaria, nodding. "Sure, yes, of course," he said, and that seemed to give Viscaria the go-ahead to practically drag him across through the bustling guests of the lavish ballroom that practically glittered under the ornate chandelier. "Where are we going?"

"To talk, didn't you hear?" Viscaria retorted, and even if she wasn't looking at him he figured she was rolling her eyes.

Mrs Greengrass nearly spilled wine on them and looked neither too pleased, but Viscaria just continued on. Merlin, she could be more careful!

Eventually, she reached a deserted corner far from the dance floor, the classical music that loudly resounded, the mouth-watering buffet table (honestly, he was feeling hungry again) and most importantly from her family and their guests.

Whatever she wanted to tell him, so it must be pretty private.

But, Viscaria just stared at him, her bravado slipping bit by bit to a more worried look. "...Orion, I think there's something wrong with mum and dad..." she trailed off, looking down, letting out a breath. "They're... I don't know... they're not the same." Orion raised an eyebrow - they didn't seem very different. "They're different, and it's not good... it's like everytime they're... I don't know. They're different..."

"They don't seem different," Orion replied, giving her a look.

Honestly, what was she talking about?

Something he did seemed to spark a candle because there was a her eyes flashed. "Of course, you wouldn't think so... wouldn't you?" Viscaria said quietly and yet biting. She never talked to him like that, she never looked at him like that and Orion did not like it. "You don't know. You don't know as soon as you came they changed."

Orion stared at her, swallowing. "How did they change...?" he asked finally, blinking and feeling an itch on the back of his neck that he needed to rub.

She let out a breath, gathering herself. "They're always angry, all the time. It's like..." She gritted her teeth. "It's like they hate eachother," she said, and Orion felt his heart sink. "Oh, don't look like that. You heard them, I've heard them... they're always arguing." Her eyes were accusative. "...Always about you. It's always you, isn't it?"

"V-Viscaria...?"

"It's your fault, huh? Orion, always yours..." she practically sneered, stepping back.

Orion felt like all the breath had be sucked from he throat. "W-what?"

He felt weak in the knees. And, telling from his stinging eyes, it felt like he'd been slapped hard in the face. He just couldn't... didn't want to believe it...

Viscaria's lip kept moving, her pearly teeth garnishing and big, grey eyes hardening bit by bit each second. "...Are you even listening...?" she hissed.

No, he wasn't.

His body turned around and his feet fled.

* * *

He wrapped the soft covers around him tighter.

He ruined everything, didn't he?

Tears dribbled down his cheeks.

Mr Malfoy, Mrs Malfoy, Viscaria were all so kind - even, Draco to an extent. But, all he had done was cause trouble for them - with the Blacks, with him. It was obvious he couldn't do anything right, wasn't it?

He was pathetic.

There was a light knock on the door, snapping his attention.

Miss Galster stood in the threshold, looking him over curiously. "What's got into you, Orion?" she asked, briskly stepping forward and sitting down beside him on the bed. "To state the obvious, you look upset."

Orion paused, looking away. "I'm fine."

"Now, I've never been gullible, Orion," Miss Galster said, giving him a wink. "What's the matter? Has someone been teasing you?"

"No," Orion said, shaking his head.

"Good. It's very wrong to make people feel down," Miss Galster remarked, smiling at him earnestly in a way that made him smile in return. "Words are such troublesome things, aren't they?"

Orion frowned, nodding. "Yes, I guess."

"Right." She tapped him on the nose, making him flinch. "Now, how about a story, now, dear?"

She smiled, almost grinned, as she stood up and walked over to his bookcase. Her finger trailing over the spines, until she slid out a thin, velvet-lined brown one. "Ah, I got you this one, didn't I...? Story of the Spinn, remember?"

"We never read that one," Orion said, shaking his head, but still interested at anything to distract him. "I'm not sure how it got there."

Miss Galster smiled, walking over with the book pressed against her chest. "Doesn't matter. I'm sure you'll like it," she said, and her accent seemed to thicken with a sort of rich delight. "My mother read this to me as a little girl."

"Really?" Orion asked curiously. "Is it like Story of the Hexebiest or Tales of the Růže? Those were cool, scary, but cool."

She sat down on the bed, flipping the book open. "Yes, it's inspired by an old folklore like those - and had many reinditions," she paused, taking a breath. "Would you like some Chocolate milk, before we read?"

Orion's eyes lit up. "Yes! Yes, please," he said, smiling brightly and licking his lips. "With sugar and cream, too, please."

"I'll see what I can do," she said, smiling warmly. "Dobby," she called, and the House-Elf with spindly limbs appeared. "Please, get Master Orion some Hot Chocolate. Make it with sugar and cream. Make it quick."

The Dobby the House-Elf disappeared as quick as the elf came.

"Thank you," Orion said, and he wasn't entirelysure if he was talking to Miss Galster or Miss Galster and the House-Elf.

Miss Galster smiled. "No problem," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "I live to serve."

The House-Elf Dobby reappeared, with a cup of steaming hot chocolate with sugar and cream appearing on the bedside table on a mat. The Elf bowed, and had to restrain a 'thank you' from passing his lips as it disappeared.

Sometimes he forgot who he was supposed to be polite to and who he wasn't.

"Hmm..." Orion licked his lips, raising the cup to his lips, and taking a long sip. The smooth, sugary taste sliding down his throat, almost burning his tongue. "This is really good."

Miss Galster smiled, shuffling closer to Orion so he could have a good look at the page. Where, in emboldened font, there was a the title Story of the Spinn, by Margo Smidth, translated by Rona Seabright. "Now let's see..."

There were vaguely-transparent, stylistic, shadow-like, bumpy, barren terrain on the page. "_'There was once a very Unlucky Boy, very alone in the Darkling Woods'_," and, as she read, a small figure with spikey hair, faded into existence, trudging forward in a loop. "_'Who would miss such a boy? Hair of raven feathers! Skin of white snow! Eyes of black buttons! He caught every eye, the worst ones at that because he was a silly boy'_." Orion felt a little sleepy, but continued to sip his hot chocolate and listened to intently. Flipping a page, a spindly figure of a woman in robes argued silently with the little boy. "_'One autumn, his mother, the Healer, asked him to visit his grandmother - who was very sick, indeed - and, deliver her healing potions she'd made last moon'_." Orion yawned, and Miss Galster paused. "Are you tired, Master Orion? Do you want me to stop?"

"N-No... I-I'm fiiine," Orion said, his voice tremouring with tiredness. "Keep reading... please."

Miss Galster flipped a page to little figure was trotting up rocky hill of blasted tree trunks, battling, half-being blown back by specks of black ink and faint, squiggly line. "_'The boy was afraid. Trees could not protect him from the rain, the winds, the hail. The Darkling Wood was a forest turned dead by wicked creatures, but blood called him and he went'_."

"Why didn't he just go around?" Orion asked, taking another sip of his drink.

Miss Galster paused. "I suppose there wasn't time. She was deathly ill, I'm sure," she said, flipping the page. "Matter of hours, if not days."

Orion blushed. "Right..."

He thought he was being smart.

"_'His feet touched and touched dead ground. Crunch. Crunch. The toiling bell for monsters. His breath grew short, as the cold wind hit. Gasp. Gasp. Is that a child I hear'_?" Suddenly, her voice was a hiss. "_'The dead thorns clawed at his feet, and red dripped. Ow. Ow. Oh, is that that pure smell'_?" Her voice was a hiss, again, and he gripped his covers harder. "'_I'm coming, child'_." Thick lines, no, legs, twitching, creeped from the edge of the page - two, no, it was four, five, no six, eight - and, all red like red ink trickling down the page."

"A spider?" Orion said, tiredly, wrinkling his nose. "I hate spiders."

Miss Galster nodded, smiling. "Sip your hot chocolate, dear," and, he took a gulp, sloping a little on his chin. "_'The little boy was in the eyes of a big predator, and he didn't even know'_," she read, her voice more dramatic as the giant gracefully descended on its unsuspecting victim. "_'Sly, ruthless and silent - the RedSpinn will wind its red web like Arabian silk around the unlucky boy, who was blinded by the rain and defeaned by the wind'_..."

Orion yawned, his eyes feeling heavier. "Does he survive?" he asked, feeling like he'd probably nod off before the end, even though he didn't want to.

Merlin, he didn't realise he was that tired.

"You'll have to find out. I don't spoil surprises," Miss Galster reprimanded lightly.

"Ookaay," Orion yawned, scowling a little, setting the cup back on the mat, and snuggling further into the covers.

Miss Galster frowned. "Aren't you going to finish you hot chocolate...?"

"Naah..." Orion yawned, smiling, as he closed his eyes. "Tell me more..."

Miss Galster sighed, giving him a sweet smile. "Okay..._'The Unlucky Boy realised too late he was trapped. He struggled'_..." The little figure struggled against the red web, which entombed him like a cocoon. "_'He cried. Help me! Help me!'_" She made her voice small, scared and mocking. "'_Help me! Help me...! Over and over and over...'_"

That was the last thing he heard before he must have drifted off...

It felt like it had been a second. Like the death of a candle flame. One moment it was bright and warm, then he awoke in darkness and it was colder.

He shivered as eyes slid open, then froze.

There was creak sound... and a shuffle of feet... And, there was a cold, night breeze, that prickled his pale skin... And, not only that, but there was...

There was a man in his room.

"...Stupefy."

And, the world slipped back away before he even got a chance to cry for help.

* * *

**A.N: Here's another chapter. Hoped you like it.**


	8. Chapter 7: Liquid Amber

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 7: Liquid Amber**

* * *

**28th October****, 1986**

* * *

She stared at them.

They were almost so peaceful wrapped in the white sheets of those little beds. The soft rise of their chests - exhale, inhale - punching her in the gut every time and making her want to cry.

She wasn't ridiculous.

She wasn't the best mother.

Motherhood had shocked her to the bone at first and life was adamant to continue the legacy. The shocks got worse and worse each time, the world got more and more complicated and she kept trying to stay afloat.

Narcissa remembered, she remembered it vividly.

Lucius was kissing her, hugging her and smiling at her. All the pride of a Malfoy and all the pride in the word. Just a few months into her marriage and she had become pregnant with their first child.

At the time it had been so simple. She'd thanked Merlin for it. She thanked him for Schletters Fine Whisky. She'd thanked him for a passable hotel bed. She'd begrudgingly thanked him for the swelling of her stomach and gratefully for the newfound addiction to her second husband, strawberry starts.

She had been fulfilling her duty. She was continuing the Malfoy bloodline and finally the pestering parents-in-law were off her back at least for a little while. It was like she could do nothing wrong.

Narcissa ought to be happy. She wasn't.

She'd been nervous. She'd been emotional. She'd felt it. For all those months of waddling about, it had been her secret, the feeling just before regrets. She played 'perfect' well like a second skin and Lucius hadn't notice – all there was to him was a wife just right level of softness, kindness and stone. She preferred it he didn't know that every kick she felt was like a toiling bell.

She wasn't going to be a good mother.

It wasn't a delusion, there was evidence against her. She hadn't been a very good sister and her mother was hardly the paragon of motherhood. Druella had been crushingly strict, lovingly smothering to the point of suffocation yet so distant the former was almost a reward, a reason to be jealous. She'd always been jealous.

Perhaps, it was family inheritance. The gold turning to muck and the festering rot.

It was how she lost her sisters.

It had started with Andromeda. She had had a way about her – and it made Narcissa envy her. The grace and confidence that everyone but her knew she exuded. The complete ability to control herself, to never let you get an inkling of what was on the inside like she was just a jigsaw puzzle that wouldn't budge. Unlike Narcissa, she was perfect at keeping her feelings close.

That wasn't right.

_"Here, you dropped this. But, a quick 'reparo' and it was fine…"_

She didn't keep them close.

_Narcissa turned and smiled, still feeling a little dizzy from being treated like a spinning top by McNair on the ballroom floor. She took the prized locket that her mother had given her a lifetime ago from her hands._

She just felt barely anything for them at all.

_"…Thank you."_

It was easy for Andromeda to abandon them. She wanted to elope with a Mudblood, just like that. It was a sick comedy to her, not love, even Andromeda surely couldn't just game of spite, damning herself to disgrace the family she had unjustifiably resented. It made Narcissa sick to even think about it, it was revolting that kind of betrayal.

Andromeda – a burned mark on the family tree left to remember her.

Bellatrix had had a way about her – and it had made Narcissa envy her.

It was a grace in wildness and on her it didn't look ridiculous. Her grin was like a predatory tiger, just ready to get the first lick - all those wide-eyed deer with their stupid coiffed hair and stiff dress robes staring as if a spell had entranced them and perhaps it had.

Narcissa wasn't an ugly sister. No. She was pretty and fair to Bella's beautiful and dark looks. She had no right to be jealous, she was courteous and reserved, just like her parents favoured – but Bellatrix was the one most wizards, and even witches (she wrinkled her nose) wanted the most.

Bella just had had this way about her, a way to cut loose without disgracing herself. She drew in a crowd and they'd _look_ at her. _Look_. As if her darkness would rub off on them and they'd be captured like a fly in liquid amber.

It was pathetic.

Bellatrix had felt nothing, absolutely nothing, for them. Not Rodolphus, not Evan, not Rabastan, not anyone. She was the mystique, people wanted to try to unravel mistakenly thinking themselves the cat with the ball of gold yarn. Bella was just playing with her food.

Yet...

_...There was her sister one evening with a look almost smitten as she undid her earrings. _

_"I've met someone…" _

_And just like that the trapped turned on itself..._

She closed her eyes.

She wasn't jealous of them, not anymore. She had everything.

Yes, Narcissa Malfloy had everything. Others didn't have nearly as much, and what they did have was nothing better. Her husband was a great wizard, she had a beautiful daughter, she had a darling son - and even Orion had been making some space for himself. She had everything, everything to lose. She had everything, everything to lose.

She had promised to herself it would be different. After all, she had learned a family united is a family safe; the death of her family had been division. But if everyone drank from the same well and there's a drop of poison, who is to blame?

Who had done this?

"Um, Mrs Malfoy...?

_A few hours ago, Narcissa didn't know what to think when she'd apparated home._

"Mrs Malfoy... ma'am?"

_They were buzzing around the gate like bees for a scrape of honey. __As soon as she had appeared, they loudly swarmed all around her with flashes upon flashes, stinging her eyes._

_"Mrs Malfoy…!"_

_"Mrs Malfoy…!"_

_Wincing, she managed to keep her composure. Stretching her lips in a pristine smile, her eyes surveyed the vultures - incompetent ones at that - with an impermeable dignity as she began to stride through them towards her home._

_"…Wizarding World News! Is it true, Mrs Malfoy? What's happened…?"_

_"...Is it true what the Quibbler says? Fairies are responsible...?"_

_"…Could you make a comment for Witch Weekly, Mrs Malfoy?"_

_Much to her chagrin, a middle-aged wizard in cheap tweed and a dragon-hide trenchcoat practically bolted right up into her face. "…Andy Smudgley, sorry. Daily Prophet!" he said quickly, smiling as if he wasn't passive aggressively blocking her path. "Is it true what they're saying, Mrs Malfoy? Can you give us a quote?" he pressed._

_She looked at them._

_Were they talking about what happened at the Parkinson's charity event for the homeless? It couldn't be anything else... right? __"Well, I'm glad to say that the Parkinson's charity ball was a huge success, despite certain allegations. It was their prerogative to-"_

_"No, Mrs Malfoy. The abduction?" He was staring at her, judging her, as his Quick-Quote fountain pen scrawled across his levitating notebook. "…You don't know? We thought you'd come from Saint Mungo's...?"_

_She couldn't speak. She couldn't think._

_This wizard was talking gibberish. She could hear the words, but they didn't make sense. Was he even speaking at all?_

_"Mrs Malfoy?"_

_"Mrs Malfoy, could you-?"_

_It was like chalk against a chalkboard. "S-Saint Mungo's…?" It leapt from her lips, she wasn't even sure she said it. Everything was wrong and it was obvious, but even with all those clue before her eyes, the dots had refused to connect. "Why…?"_

_She would berate herself for stupidity._

_The noise died down a little. _

_Journalists were looking at each other with disbelief, some looked at her with manifesting pity and most were exchanging murmurs to each other as their fountain pens scribbled away and the rest were still yelling obliviously._

_"Our sources day that there was an attempted abduction of Viscaria Malfoy and the Black heir…"_

"Mrs Malfoy...?"

_Flash._

_"But, Mrs Malfoy...?"_

_Flash._

_"...Mrs Malfoy, are you al...?"_

_Flash._

_"Mrs Malfoy…!"_

"Mrs Malfoy…!?"

_Just a rush of dread surging through her, propelling her forward..._

And, now hours later, here she was.

At Saint Mungo's hospital looking down at two fragile bodies and knowing that nothing would be the same. Knowing she hadn't learned a damn thing.

"Mrs Malfoy, are you okay?" asked the Healer, looking a step away from panicking.

No.

She put up a fake smile. "Yes, I'm fine."

* * *

**16th November, 1986.**

* * *

It was the funniest thing.

One moment life can be one thing and then it was another. It was a joke he couldn't quite wrap his head around - or at least it felt like one - and the punchline was pointless.

Orion was Saint Mungo's.

He couldn't believe it. The yellow tiles that were supposed to be a "happy colour", the strange children from Merlin knew where, the terrible, upbeat music on the wireless that the staff had put a spell on to stop kids from being able to change it or preferably smash it told him otherwise.

And did he mention that nearly everything was yellow?

Even his room was yellow and the ensuite (thank Merlin for small mercies) even had a yellow sink, its tap turned in its socket every time he tried to let some water loose. The toilet wasn't yellow though, it was green, which seemed worse. There were specks of grey mold were on the ceiling too and to top-it-off his bed was lumpy and his tiny bedside desk was rickety.

Perhaps if he'd come from the almost derelict Grimmuald Place to here, he'd have said that at least it wasn't dusty. As Malfoy's ward he'd had become accustomed to a... better environment.

Orion sighed, shaking his head. How long had he been here, really? It had to have been a few weeks or so around about. He counted about two weeks, a few days were blurry. Worse still, he'd been already practically sick of the place just after an hour regaining consciousness there on the first day.

When was he getting out of here, again?

"Are you brooding?" a semi-familiar voice said, its Northern accent a little grating. There was a boy, maybe around his age, with messy brown hair and rather wide green eyes, standing in front of him.

"...No. Who are you?" Orion said, looking at him blithely.

The boy scrunched up his brow, confused. "You're sitting alone like a miserable fucker." Orion flinched, his eyes widening. "Isn't that brooding?" He just stared. "...Oh wait, huh, you asked me a question, what was it again?" he added thoughtfully, giving him a look.

"Um..." Orion frowned, not even sure he wanted to know. "...What's your name?" he said lamely.

The boy smiled. "Kai."

"Ah... Kai, hello," Orion said, looking around for something to save him.

"Hello..." Kai paused, bristling on his feet, before giving Orion a look. "You said your name, right? Brian... right?"

Orion gave him a look. "No, I didn't. Orion."

"Oh, 'Or-i-on'... 'Or-i-on', 'Orion'...?" the brown-haired boy continued to test out the name, sitting down the chair opposite Orion. "...Isn't that, isn't that like a star or something?" he asked after a few moments, eyes widening.

Orion's eye twitched. He just wanted some alone time... but, he didn't want to be rude. "...Hmm," It was like a strangled noise in his throat. "...It's actually a constellation," he coughed, slouching a little.

"Oh..." Kai leaned forward. "Fucking wizard."

This was an awkward conversation, not that the other boy seemed to realise this.

"Yeah, it's a constellation," Orion repeated, smiling nervously. "My family..." He swallowed. "Well, they have a habit of naming people after astronomical things... you know what 'astronomical' means, right?"

"I'm not a fuckwit," Kai snapped, scowling. "It's like stars and consti-constelu-constitilates-..." He scrunched his face and Orion felt his lip twitch in amusement. "...That thing you said."

Orion smirked. "Yeah, 'that thing I said'."

"Yeah, that..." Kai smirked right back at him. "Anyway, what are you in for...?" The boy let out a giggle, coughing a little and straightening up. "I've always wanted to say that," he said, his face splitting in a broad grin.

Orion stared. It was obvious 'Kai' was a bit off kilter. "Why I'm here in the 'Happy Room' or why I'm in Saint Mungo's in the first place?" he played along, it wasn't like he had anything better to do.

A pleased eagerness spread over his face. "The first one... No, wait, and the second... Bloody both!" He paused, hunching his shoulders and glancing around. "Tell me both reasons and I'll tell you why I'm in this shitehole too." He winked. "You'll never guess."

Shaking his head, Orion sighed. There was no point in lying. "Well... I guess the reason why I'm here is because... is because... is because..." He looked up at the ceiling, sighing again. "Well. I guess it's because..." Kai gave him an impatient look. "Someone tried to abduct me and my cousin. I don't know why, I guess they wanted to 'ransom us', I think."

Kai frowned thoughtfully. "Oh, like the Candy Snatchers?"

Orion stared. "What?"

"Or was it a gang? Was it like The Grissom Gang?" Kai said curiously, eagerly talking complete gibberish and looking a bit too excited about this. Orion felt the surge of an extremely large incoming headache. "Were they really sweaty and gross...? Were they? Oh... were they...?" he jabbered on, throwing out question after question.

Annoying.

Was this some big joke to him?

Orion wrapped his fist against the table, making Kai flinch. "Shut up. I don't know. Let's move on..." he said dourly, glaring at him. "I'm in the 'Happy Room' because Mrs Cauldwell thought it'd be better if I was with children my own age more. Happy now?" he said quickly, before Kai could speak again.

Kai paused. "Nah, today's been pretty shit," he sighed, slumping back in his chair.

"Oh, why?" he asked, not even sure he wanted to know.

Lolling his head and shrugging his shoulders, Kai gave Orion a lazy look. "Well, I've been here for a while. And, I mean a _while_." He pushed himself up in his chair, sighing. "I - well, since you wanted to know - I went here when my parents got sick of me." He looked a little sullen. "Yeah, they tried to sugarcoat it, but heh..." he said.

"...I'm sorry," Orion said stiffly. He really felt pity for Kai. Who'd want to be abandoned in this place and for only Merlin know's how long? He sure didn't want to, it would be a nightmare.

"Why? It's not like you did anything, did you?" Kai asked, looking a little older and far more tired. "Although, can you believe it?" He snorted. "They got tired of me messing about, talking back to them, talking to my friends and so on."

Orion frowned, wrinkling his nose at a strange, harsh smell wafted from nearby. "It's, i-it's..." he coughed a little, bringing a hand to his mouth. "It's bad they abandoned you here. That's just wrong," he said, blinking, his eyes feeling a little irritated.

What was that smell...?

Kai smiled, looking up at him. "...Thanks, mate."

"FIRE!" a voice screamed and the bells started going.

There was smoke wafting through the corridor. The staff were trying to get a hold of everyone, many of whom had begun to panic and were trying to scramble over each other to the nearest exit. One brawny girl pushed past a ginger-haired boy, making him fall on top of one of the dollhouses with a 'umph', smashing it to bits and making a group of girls shriek.

Orion turned to Kai.

Kai was looking at him dead in the eye. "I also start fires. Don't tell anyone."

* * *

**23rd November, 1986**

* * *

Often, Mr Malfoy and Mrs Malfoy visited them both.

This was one of those afternoons.

Like usual (and, he'd never thought he'd be saying that), Viscaria was quieter than a mouse (although, now that Orion thought about it, mice were actually quite loud with all that squeaking). It was unnerving how quiet she was, especially considering how long she'd been like that.

"Hello, Mr Malfoy and Mrs Malfoy," Orion said as they walked through the door.

"Hello Orion..." Mrs Malfoy said, giving a strained smile. "...Viscaria?" Both Mr and Mrs Malfoy frowned when their daughter didn't respond.

"...How are you feeling, Vis- the both of you?" Mr Malfoy asked, trying to pitch in and looking, for the first time Orion had seen him, uncomfortable.

Viscaria gave no response.

Mrs Malfoy frowned. "...Dear?"

Mr Malfoy rubbed his temple, turning to look at Orion with an inquiring look.

"...Hey, Mr Malfoy, Mrs Malfoy..." Orion greeted, technically again, drawing their attention towards him for a little while. "I... uh... I think Viscaria's just tired. She's not been having a good-nights rest... from what she told me..." He felt really awkward when they were both looking at him - especially Mr Malfoy, since the man was very distant and often very busy.

"Do they not have potions for that?" Mr Malfoy drawled, looking irritated.

Mrs Malfoy gave her husband a hard look, before smiling gently at Orion. "Thank you for bringing that to our attentions, Orion," she praised and her voice put Orion more at ease since she'd been a little too stone-faced for his liking; this place was already miserable enough. "We'll see what we can do..."

Orion smiled.

When they eventually left, his smile died. In fact, his face probably looked like it was hosting a funeral when he noticed that Viscaria's dead eyes were following him like they did.

Was that a dirty look?

He couldn't tell.

"Stop looking at me like that," he snapped defensively after a few moments, folding his arms and scowling. "They're gonna sort it all out. You'll be thanking me when your happy because you found the right side of the bed to wake up on."

She tilted her head, pausing as if processing the information. Then, her blank face snapped like a blown out candle. "Right. T-Thank you..." Her voice was but a whisper as the rest of her body shivered.

Okay, now he felt bad about snapping.

"It's okay. I'm sorry for snapping at you," he said tiredly, looking down at his feet. "You didn't deserve it."

Still, Orion hadn't really understand her problem, exactly - for note, he still didn't. He'd gone through the same thing as her, but he wasn't all stuttering and that quiet. Why was she so dramatic?

Although, Viscaria was always dramatic.

There was something more - something he couldn't put his finger on. The adults were whispering behind their backs and playing innocent to their faces. There must be a reason why Viscaria was like this; why she took a lot more sessions than him, why she seemed even more silent, even listless, so many times.

Once she'd cut her hand on a broken tile last week.

She hadn't even noticed.

Then, when she had, she'd just fainted like a ton, just like that. The Medi-witches and Medi-wizards in white had to carry her out on a levitating stretcher and then he hadn't seen her for days.

And, with this, he could help but think about everything.

To think, the Malfoy manor had been so safe to the point it was almost like another little world were nothing could hurt you.

But, everywhere in the world, people could hurt you - his grandmother had told him that many, many times.

He felt guilty for forgetting that wisdom; tried to forget.

His grandmother had been right, perhaps she was always. Now he was stuck in the loony bin in a room where to his right was a brown-haired boy who liked - really liked - obsessively liked - fires, surprisingly or unsurprisingly Exploding Snap and also swearing all the time.

Okay, maybe he was being a bit mean.

They were actually kind of nice.

But, he'd rather be home than be around them and listen to one of their weird conversations. Orion was more social than Viscaria, but most of time he like to stay in his room as often as the staff would let him and mull over in a world of light yellow paint and bright amber (Which was meant to be happy a colour, they assured him!).

Oh, yes, he should have known. He should have known his bad luck would catch up on him. Yet, what made him even more angry was how could he have known?

_Walburga smiled, cupping his chin._

_"The Muggles are going to gobble you up. Make you into stew. And, the blood-traitors are going to lick their lips and let them eat."_

_He shuddered._

_"But we can stop it. You and I..."_

He'd practically punched his pillow in the face, completely incredulous. But he couldn't think about that. He couldn't think about how it must have been blood-traitors that had kidnapped him, somehow - and, how right his grandmother had been! Why did he let his guard down - this wouldn't have happened at 12 Grimmauld Place!

He paused.

But, no. There already had been a monster at 12 Grimmauld Place and he'd rather live with Malfoys - lacking protection or not - much more than go back to that place, even if now all he can think and dream about is how there was a shadow in his room and the wetness of his bed when he woke up.

His face reddened. His fist clenched.

Damn it.

"_Stupefy_."

That word.

That spell.

Over and over in his head.

And, how the world just seemed to slip away before he even had a chance...

"How are you feeling today, Orion?" Mrs Cauldwell asked, giving him a warm smile. She was quite aged, her greying brown hair tied back underneath a white, pointed cap with a black 'M'. She wore the standard Medi-witch white, uniform dress and a white cape pinned at the collar by a bronze, standard brooch of the Saint Mungo's logo.

Orion tried to smile. "I'm fine, ma'am."

She gave him a patronizing, pitying look. "I know it's not exactly what you're used to..." She placed the dull-looking tray on the table with a cup of Pumpkin juice - bleh. "But... they've managed to put a bit of beef on it this time, isn't that nice?"

Orion nodded. "Right... thank you."

"Such a little gentleman," Mrs Cauldwell said, patting his shoulder with an even brighter smile. "You'll be out of isolation in no time with that positive attitude."

He withheld a cringe, nodding.

And, she left soon after to attend to her other boring duties.

Orion Black sighed.

He was slouched on his designated bed of the past few days.

When could he leave this forsaken place?

Everyone was overreacting. He was fine - end of discussion. Could he go home now? He had told them, the healers, this again and again, but they just wouldn't listen.

He rubbed his shoulder. Apparently, it had been dislocated and suffered a nasty cut when he bashed against something when he was knocked out. It was gone now - just few flicks of a wand was all it took to erase the evidence. It felt like someone had erased his mind to, because he could barely remember or believe what had happened.

For the first time in his life, he really envied Draco. He hadn't been at the manor at the time - off on some play-date with the Parkinson and Zabini family.

He had been kidnapped - well, almost. His attempted abduction had been more successful than Viscaria's. She was lucky; her kidnapper had been sloppy and failed. He, meanwhile, had to be saved by Lucius, apparently.

He hated this place. White everywhere - as if colours hadn't been discovered yet. Then there was the staff with their mock sympathy - and the food was just awful.

He took a bite, chewing.

At first taste, he spat it back onto the tray.

Ugh.

How did you screw up mash and sausage, anyhow?

No, really.

How did you do that?

Even Kreacher could do that and Kreacher had been useless as…

That was the very moment Orion Black stop short of another tirade. Peeking out from under his plate wasn't a napkin – he'd thought it was to wipe his hands, but it wasn't. The paper felt like velvet to the touch and made an electric spark tingle his body, and he couldn't help but lift out to his face.

What...?

_You were dragged into this._

_Don't trust anyone._

**V.**

'V'...? Viscaria?

No, this wasn't her hand-writing and she hadn't been anywhere near his room.

Orion blinked; the note was... getting darker. It was blackening before his eyes, burning bit by bit from the corners by an invisible fire, eating way at itself until...

But, it remained cold in his hands. He didn't feel any pain.

He'd almost thought he'd imagined it. The speck of soot on his finger told him otherwise.

What strange magic...

Orion really felt like he should keep quiet about the note.

He didn't trust the staff - he hadn't trust them from the get-go. They were overly-smiley and just plane creepy; he kept having a feeling they were only smiling so widely like that because they wanted to do something to him behind everyone's backs.

It wasn't like he started that food fight.

It wasn't like he set the boy's lavatory on fire.

Why was it that he was always at the wrong place at the wrong time, dammit?

The bell sounded, meaning that lunch for everyone who was not in low-level and, he supposed, the other levels of isolation, was over. They'd probably be going to group-therapy any minute, unlucky idiots.

Good thing he was in isolation and didn't have to go.

"I should do bad things more often," he half-joked to himself.

Maybe Kai could be a little less zealous with the fire next time...?

* * *

**18th December, 1986.**

* * *

It wasn't necessary.

She'd awoken in a cold sweat and screaming, but she was fine.

She told them that, again and again.

Just a silly dream that she could only barely remember. She'd spent a while washing and washing her hands, making the soft palms brittle, but that was because of the spots of red that soaked her pale hands. It was apparent she couldn't go out like that, as her father and mother would admonish her of how a Malfoys appearance was imperative.

They didn't listen, of course. They pretended to - but they never did. They just smiled their facile smiles and simpered as they gently guided her down the light yellow halls as if she were glass - and, perhaps they were right to be careful as broken glass cut deep and she knew she'd cut true.

"Viscaria Malfoy, patient number 0162 - hour twelve."

She sits alone, the white dress hugging her small frame, hands resting on her lap as she twiddled her fingers. Tilted her head away as the man's eye burned dull, and caught her reflection in the shiny, tasteless tiles. It shouldn't have been her with grey eyes too sunken, skin pale like snow ready to melt in sun, and honey-blonde hair drowning that face, shrouding it like a demon, but perhaps it was.

"Hello Viscaria, I'm Healer Arncliffe. You know - I have a little girl like you. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"So, tell me what's keeping you awake at night?"

The voice was like honey (sweet and syrupy) and she quite liked how fake it was to her ears. But, she hated the man before her. But, that didn't matter because they didn't understand because they weren't special and she smiled as they murmured; dry as the pages of the books they used to diagnose her.

But, they couldn't see she was fine.

"You're not fine, Viscaria. Tell me the truth. You can trust me."

She wasn't lying, she was fine.

She tilted her head towards the man, as loathing swam in the very depths of her eyes. He knew what she thought of him, but he just kept going and going. He smiled his smile, he made his humourless jokes, his anecdotes and excuses so heartfelt, and she might like to see him in a pool of red, but perhaps that was a dream.

"No, Viscaria, you can't go home yet."

She closed her eyes, her ears closing off to the chatter.

He always said the same things like a stuttering record in an endless loop. And, that's when she remembered her father and her mother would come for her because she knew her parents would see what a fool he was and then they'd make him disappear like her tutor, Mr Moore.

There were more soft murmurs pricking her ear.

More of those smiles, of course.

They said she needed to interact with people her own age. They said she shouldn't be so alone. She was sitting, alone at a table, in the corner of the Happy room that had a black box of a cheap wireless stuck playing soothing classical music; it was full of children laughing, giggling, running and throwing things like dolls, toy blocks, or a fish they'd snatched from the pet tank - and, it reminded her of when her father had taken her to the zoo.

She didn't want to play with them.

"Do you want to play dolls...?"

The girl before her was dressed in a white gown; pretty, with teary blue eyes, dull, messy blonde hair and a silly little smile that curled to easily.

But, no. She didn't feel like it.

"Do you want to play Exploding Snap...?"

A brown-haired, green-eyed boy with white shirt and trousers asked her.

But, no. She didn't even know how.

"...I mean, have you tasted the food... I mean, Merlin, we should just eat the grass from Green's Garden... the beef tastes like that time I chewed some... And, then..."

She just felt so tired.

But, she couldn't sleep.

"...And, then I had to stand in line for the... Why don't have enough for everyone...? I should run this place..."

So tired.

Tired of it all.

But, she couldn't sleep.

"...Are you evening listening to me...?" A boyish voice snapped.

Orion was sitting across from her, looking at her with dark-grey, wide eyes, pale skin that still looked healthier than her own, and dark hair that looked like it hadn't been combed as diligently as the last time she saw him.

Viscaria paused, giving him a slow look. "...Sorry, just thinking..." she said, before looking away. "What were you saying?"

Orion's lips thinned, which seemed to be a habit of his. "...Basically, this place sucks," he said, matter-of-factly. "If people aren't insane when they come in, they're definitely when they come out."

"...No kidding," Viscaria said, cracking a weak smile as she glanced at the children messing around and shouting and the caretakers who vainly tried to stop them.

Perhaps they had been well-behaved before they came here?

Orion was looking at her strangely.

"What?" she snapped, defensively, gritting her teeth.

Orion paused. "Nothing..."

Well, Viscaria wasn't stupid.

She knew it was something.

"Just because..." she swallowed. "Just because I had a little..." Now what had her father called it. "...'Scare', doesn't mean I'm stupid."

Orion raised his hands, defensively. "Didn't say that..." he said, looking nervous. "It's just you seem different... You've changed."

She opened her mouth.

She closed it.

Maybe she had. Maybe he has.

"I'm fine, Orion," and the lie came easy.

And, maybe she would change even more in this place.

"Are you...?" Orion asked lightly, grinning. "I don't think you are..."

"I am!" Viscaria snapped, giving him a look. "Merlin, Orion, will you cut it out. You're always asking me stuff and telling me stuff - just stop, I'm fine."

Orion continued to smile like a nitwit. "Then why did Mathilda offer to play dolls with you? She hates you, doesn't she...?" he asked, his tone curiously. "That's what she said, didn't she? You swore she did, and I know it."

"Maybe she likes me, secretly," Viscaria said, feeling uncomfortable. "Ori-"

"Said she'd 'never like you in a million years', she did," Orion remarked, tapping his chin. "Your father ruined her father, didn't he...? Even you snubbed her on his word. So, did everyone else - and, then she ended up here. Not that you knew that-"

"Orion, shut up," she hissed.

Orion raised an eyebrow. "Never even gave her a thought. Too busy playing will dolls, going to parties, playing 'Queen' of the little girls' place," he said, grimacing and giving her a dry look. "You didn't know that little Mathilda - the girl who liked writing and reading poetry to the group, who liked strawberries like they were priceless, was cutting herself again and again... right?"

"W-Why are you telling me this...?" she asked, tears brimming at her eyes.

"Because, I know what you did..." Orion said casually, before shaking his head and giving her a look. "But, the thing I don't get is the ginger kid, you know crazy-eyed one with the skin condition...? You don't even know his name, but you wanted him to like you too, didn't you? After all, you're the one who just walked by while he was being wailed on by those two older boys." Viscaria looked away. "The trouble is that you want everyone to like you, but you don't even try."

Viscaria's eyes narrowed. "That's not true-"

"Maybe you don't-"

Viscaria's stood up from her chair and knocked it over. "Shut up! Shut up! Stop talking anymore!" she screeched, knocking her mug of stale hot chocolate over and letting the red liquid spill across the table and all over him. "You don't know anything!"

Orion's eyes flashed, standing up, removing a napkin from his pocket and helplessly trying to wipe the stain from his white clothes. "You don't know anything," he hissed, his dark, grey eyes becoming like steel. "You never asked. You never thought. All you did was live in your own little world, and..." He sneered at her, throwing the useless, red napkin on the ground and glaring at her. "...You're surprised... really? You're surprised you deserved it."

She felt like she'd been struck.

She stared. "O-Orion..."

He breathed hard, his large frame shaking as he looked at her. "You never even noticed..."

"Never noticed what...?" she asked slowly, edging towards.

"My eyes aren't grey, they're brown..." he chuckled, like it was some joke, shaking his head and fixing her a grin. "My hair isn't brown, either, it's black. You're so self-absorbed, you didn't even notice that." He rolled his eyes, smiling. "You didn't even notice that we're home, now."

She felt a prickling at her neck.

It was her room.

"Do you feel his breath...?"

A shadow loomed over, and the last thing she saw was a smiling Viscaria raising a silver hairpin of gleaming emeralds, but rusting red and emeralds dulling and dulling each moment before her eyes like a rotting corpse in the sweltering sun.

She opened her mouth to scream.

Her eyes snapped open and she lurched on the bed, sweat on her brow.

Tears slid.

It was all wrong!

It was all wrong!

The potions they'd been giving her were supposed to stop these dreams, they had said!

Her eyes cooled.

Well, that's what they had said, hadn't they?

* * *

**24th December, 1986.**

* * *

Orion was almost happy.

It was time for everyone to try to put their chin up, it was Christmas Eve! Although, Viscaria kept sighing like she could die any moment.

He just managed to stop himself from wrapping his arm around her. "No, don't you be like that, Viscaria. It will be fun!" he said brightly, half-successfully deluding himself that this would be a great.

If he was going to enjoy any time, he would enjoy Christmas time. Looking over the food in the cafeteria, he smiled when he noticed it was a little better-looking than before.

His fork dug into the Christmas pudding, stuffing some in his mouth... _Bleh_. It was stale. He helped himself to some of the fruitcake, which much to his disgust turned to be rather tasteless and dry.

He picked up or more caught a Chocolate Frog, which was trying to jump out of the charmed bowl. He bit its head off, crunching down on it. Hmm... it was rather tasty, but hardly the best he'd had, it was more lukewarm and sickly than normal. Well, it was nice to be positive for at least thirty minutes into the day, for once.

"It's better than last year," Kai said grumpily.

Orion blinked. "Really?"

"Last year, they barely had any money. This year they seem to have a lot more," the boy said, glancing curiously at him. "...How much money are your guardians pouring into this place now that you're here...?" he said.

Orion shrugged.

If they were, they weren't giving enough. This place didn't seem to even be trying to bring the mood up for Christmas. There was some silver tinsel stuck there and some silver tinsel stuck there and some silver tinsel thrown there, but even his grandmother tried harder than that to make Christmas festive and he was pretty sure she didn't even like Christmas.

And, none of this compared to the Malfoy's amazing Christmases.

Maybe if he complained to the Malfoys about the food they'd step in? They wouldn't want him and their daughter eating complete rubbish, right?

Hopefully, Saint Mungo's would allow them present from the outside even if they were all kind of stingy about that for some reason. It would make sense though, it's not like they could deny them presents when it was Christmas time?

Could they?

After all, this place certainly didn't have the Christmas spirit.

Most of the walls at Saint Mungo's were bare and most of the staff on this ward were either off smoking those fat cigars or funny little cigarettes outside or in the staffroom, some were guzzling down some potions outside or drinking in the staffroom or, if loyally on duty, glaring at everyone like they were to blame for all theirs life problems or in the staffroom doing paperwork.

Although, a few seemed to be trying to be happy at least, like Mrs Cauldwell and Ms Mccubbin.

Those two were in the 'Happy Room' (although Orion had just taken to calling it the Common Room... because, really?) levitating baubles and a bit of left-over tinsel onto a very rough looking tree which seemed to have a few wrapped presents underneath - and, it was really terrible looking.

"The Christmas tree looks bloody awful," Orion blurted out before he could stop himself.

And, he definitely couldn't stop it from echoing throughout the room either.

Mrs Cauldwell and Ms Mccubbin paused in their decorating, giving Orion a surprised look. Other were looking at him two, a couple of girls and boys were sniggering while others looked with just curiosity.

"Orion, we don't accept that kind of behaviour here or anywhere, boy. Apologise now or I'll be washing your mouth out," Ms Mccubbin said coldly, giving him a look that made it looked more like a promise than just a threat.

"Orion, please apologise... and, maybe we'll let you help us decorate the tree?" Mrs Cauldwell said in her usual, patronizing and sweet tone as she looked down at him.

Orion bit his lip, feeling everyone's eyes on him. "I'm-"

"Oi, leave him alone you silly cows!" Kai's slightly-muffled voice called off to the side.

Orion turned to find his... acquaintance, semi-friend, person-who-got-him-into-trouble-more...? Well, whatever he was, he was sitting at one of the tables, stuffing his face with the hard-as-rock chocolate brownies (Orion wrinkled his nose) and leaving thick crumbs basically everywhere.

Mrs Cauldwell missed a beat. "What?"

"All we're saying..." As Kai said this, Orion's stomach churned with horror, as the boy wretched his back and laughed like he was batty. "...the best Christmas gift of all would be if someone burned the shit out of the ugly tree and tied you two to it!"

Ms Mccubbin's face went beet red. "That's it. Malachai Pagget, Orion Black. Both of you, isolation, now!"

And, that was how he ended up in low-level isolation again.

* * *

**A.N: Hope you all liked this chapter!**


	9. Chapter 8: Yellow Brick

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 8: Yellow Brick**

* * *

**15th January****, 1987**

* * *

**Viscaria.**

The room was disgusting.

The walls were yellow like the wet linen sheets they'd had to replace and the tiles remained cracked as if another world was trying to peek through.

She'd be mad here if she was alone.

But, she was never alone.

After all, monsters were clingy. They were clingier than Orion.

Speaking of clingy... her smiling lips twitched as she was brought back to the present. They almost cracked and allowed the lines to smooth out, but he asked another question that she had to respond to.

"How do you know he doesn't have a face if you haven't seen him...?" Healer Arncliffe said, hunching further and green eyes alight with curiosity and some unease.

Healer Arncliffe didn't know. She let out a girlish giggle.

"'Em, I know how hard this must be, but could you help us a little, Viscaria...?" Ms Mccubbin stepped in with a grim smile, her Scottish lilt especially thick today.

'Hard'? 'Hard' was laughable.

Of all the things, it was not hard.

Metal had easily slid through as a knife for a slice of birthday cake, the gurgling like a frog would come, and everything went slack as a pillow. How evil, how wrong, and it had been the only way - it had not been her fault - and, anyone would tell you that.

"Viscaria, are you paying attention?"

"'Em, Viscaria...?"

"Viscaria...?"

His voice was always syrup - and, out of the two she learned to hate it the most. It grated at her ears, made her stomach flutter. If only she had another hairpin... no, she had to smile and be polite to them. She wasn't stupid.

"I'm fine, just a little tired, Healer Arncliffe," Viscaria said, the lie smooth as butter on her tongue as her smile stayed fixed. "...You see, there's this really dripping noise in my room, I think something's busted..."

Arncliffe smiled brightly, disgustingly pretty eyes looking at her like she was a dumb, challenged friend. "Please, call me, Tom, everyone does..." he told her, resting the clipboard on his lap and putting on a condescending smile. "We'll take a look. Probably a loose pipe..."

She stifled a giggle.

This was so easy it was boring.

* * *

_Dear Diary._

_Daddy visits sometimes. Mummy visits most times. Draco visited once. I'm just wondering what do they when they're not here? Are they really sad when I'm not there? Or, are they happy when they leave this place?_

_Do they forget about me?_

_Do you even know?_

_Sincerely,_

_Viscaria._

* * *

**23rd January, 1987**

* * *

**Lucius.**

Caution was a must.

Especially now, it was.

The Blacks had practically been salivating for any opportunity to unveil their talons - and, what better than Orion as well as Viscaria being traumatised from a failed abduction?

He sneered at their claims of 'negligence' and 'naivety', of how the wards had been 'insufficient' protection for such a high-profile target like Black heir. They cawed to the Daily Prophet, the Wizarding World News and the other insignificant newspapers like pigeons for crumbs.

The World News was being right pain in the posterior at the moment...

**Malfoy or not: Orion Black for the Blacks?**

**By Clara Swelton,**

_As the investigation in the attempted on the Black heir and Malfoy heiress, tests run by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on Malfoy Manor in accordance of Ministry guidelines and co-operation with the third-party Warding &amp; Co. Maintenance, it was shown there were elements of negligence in the security of Malfoy Manor..._

It was a silly notion that only the brain-dead masses would lap up; half of them were practically 'Muggles' as it was, after all. And, it wasn't even surprising to Lucius that the Law Enforcement had been bought out, the poor fools could barely afford teabags on their salary and the greedy Warding &amp; Co. Maintenance had made the wrong enemy.

And, this Swelton-nobody.

He supposed he'd just have to flick the blame right back. He'd turn the tides and sue Warding &amp; Co. Maintenance for 'negligence' and 'fraud' until all their accounts were empty wastelands - after all, the public loved a big villain slash idiot to take the fall, the Corporate Wizarding World would be a nice fit.

He sneered at the dribble, throwing it in the fire.

"I agree," Narcissa said, pursing her lip as she turned the page of some violet book. "Are you alright, Lucius...?" Narcissa's soft voice came, her soft hand coming up to touch his shoulder as they stared out the window together for a silent moment.

It was a sunny, bright day.

Almost as if even weather had taken time out of its schedule to mock him

Sighing gravely, he turned to face his wife, touching her hand with his own, with some false bravado. "Of course, I am, Narcissa," he drawled; of course, not only beautiful but an intelligent and perceptive woman, she didn't look particularly convinced. Thankfully, she didn't pry. "When did they say they were coming...?"

"Five O'Clock," she said dully, letting out a sigh as she continued to read. "I'm afraid they're three hours late. Must be the bombings, I suppose." She sighed, blinking. "The world just seems to get more and more dangerous no matter how you slice it. Not like it hasn't always been that way, I suppose."

Lucius sneered into his tea."Talk about inconvenient. This Vox Magi really must hate us quite a fair amount," he said tightly, flexing his fist as anger coursed through his veins.

It was the biggest joke of them all.

**VOX MAGI!**

They were all crying it to the heavens oh so dramatically.

Although, then again... he hoped the Vox Magi bombed another Blood-traitor's den for three reasons: less stains in the world, a possible trail to follow and he could appreciate every respite from Bones incessant questions that never seemed to end! The woman was an annoyance hiding behind, as she repeated often like a broken parrot on a Vitamix potion, 'protocal'. At least he'd have some luck.

His wife was giving him a look. "Really? I doubt that they're doing this all for us," she said, a little bit of amusement edging its way into her voice.

"You'd be surprised how obsessed people get about our family," Lucius replied half-seriously, taking another sip of his tea (which had unfortunately gone a little lukewarm).

She let out a small chuckle. "Must be the hair to blame."

Blame...

The word kept ringing around his head: who was to blame?

His usual suspects list got bigger each day and the most visible was a nanny.

Viscaria and Orion hadn't been successful with disappearing into the night, but Miss Galster certainly had been. In fact, the D.M.L.E had issued a Missing Persons and Person of Interest notice twelve hours after the attempted abduction, but the word had been not to expect much.

Now, Lucius Malfoy could acknowledge foreigners like Miss Galster had different customs and habits, but he was pretty sure turning up on time for your paycheck was the same everywhere. Yet, the German nitwit had somehow suspiciously vanished; how inconvenient for her.

He speculated either she was being held captive (which was increasingly unlikely), her corpse was stashed in some forsaken place (that was hopefully not his big house) or she had been an accomplice in the failed abduction. His naturally cynically mind preferred the latter.

Why, he was able picture it right now.

The two cherubs, Orion and Viscaria, smiling joyfully and laughing as if Christmas had come early, with their beloved nanny. Like innocent lambs for the slaughter. Lucius had purchased steller wards but it was possible that someone on the inside had skillfully tampered with them for the failed kidnappers.

It made the most sense.

He gritted his teeth.

That smiling cunt of tutor had obviously been an insider!

He... apologised if Galster was actually dead and her bloody body was rotting somewhere. If they found her like that, he'd send flowers to her grave - which, in that scenario, would be a great kindness on his part since the well-being of the children was part of her damn job description and she'd proved useless.

Narcissa's voice came, but it was distant. "...Lucius, are you alright, dear?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled half-heartedly, waving his hand dismissively, as he leaned back in his rather comfortable chair and glared holes in the ceiling.

This business.

All of it.

It was an outrage.

How dare this happen to him of all people?

And, this anger was only compounded by his treatment these past few months.

All those melancholy looks from his co-workers and even people on the street. As if they were all his best friends that had attended all his children's birthday parties, to whom he'd confessed a dark, cliché Hogwarts' secret to them as an angsty teenager that they promised they would take to their graves and who would all grieve with him when his parents finally kicked the bucket.

It made him want to just whip out his wand and 'Avada Kedarva' the lot of them.

"...The-eh, D-Department for Magical Law Enforcement is here, Master," the decrepit little House-Elf squeaked out and from the way its legs were shaking, it'd probably been cowering in the doorway for a while.

Lucius sneered. "Well, let them in, you stupid-"

It looked like the stupid creature had left it to the last minute, because the mahogany doors suddenly opened and Bones strode in with two Aurors by her side - what a high-profile guest, almost too high-profile and he'd have to look into that.

He and his wife exchanged looks.

"Good evening, Madam Bones," Narcissa said, quickly raking up her composure and placing her book on the table.

"Madam Bones," Lucius greeted, putting on a smile that win Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award hands-down. "A pleasure. Did you have a good day? I hear there was a lot of action."

The grey-haired witch's navy-blue eyes perused him, her half-framed glasses dipping a little beak-like nose. "Good evening, Mr Malfoy, Mrs Malfoy," Bones greeted calmly. "We were delayed due to unforeseen, unfortunate circumstance. Now, let's commence with the session."

"Not even an apology. No wonder terrorists are making you work long hours."

Bones' eye twitched at his comment, his lip twitched at his slight victory. "Yes, speaking of terrorists. That's what I'd actually like to discuss with you," she said, keeping her composure while surveying him with impassive eyes.

He wondered if she'd ever caught that unknown assailant had shoved a pole up her arse and motivated her to be a force for justice!

Maybe, he should ask...?

You know, her drably grey Auror uniform was really tailored to her severely dour appearance. The tunic with a bronze-lined, mandarin collar and seven-button placket front with pleated, scalloped-flapped pockets, the golden 'M' embroidered on the left breast, the trousers tucked into her dragon-hide boots.

Over her uniform, like most Aurors fancied, she wore a trenchcoat with the buttons and belt undone.

Lucius' lip curled.

You'd think as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement she'd spruce herself up a little. Lucius wouldn't be surprised if her subordinates had trouble telling her apart from the grey masses. He wondered if one of them had asked her to get them a cup of tea, mistaking her for an intern.

"I'll do anything to help, Madam," Lucius said, ignoring his wife's warning look. "I just hope it isn't just repeating something for the millionth time while your underlings stuff themselves with pastry."

Bones narrowed her eyes. "I think the time will be very productively spent. Your children get justice for what happened to them."

"At this rate, I'd have more hope them figuring it out than you lot too," Lucius drawled, standing up from his chair and matching her icy gaze with his own. "Anyhow, let's get this over with."

"We'll talk in the lounge, again," Narcissa said with a polite smile, standing to her feet and gesturing for everyone to follow.

* * *

**27th January, 1987.**

* * *

**Orion.**

Mrs Malfoy smiled brightly offering Viscaria a pink cupcake.

Viscaria had a sunny smile that would have either melted butter or set someone's hair on fire, as she nibbled on the treat like a mouse with cheese. Later, Orion heard her retching it all up in the girls' loo.

After checking to see if she was alright only to be screamed at, he returned to his room to find he had received another, mysterious note.

_Did you know the Vox Magi tried to kidnap you?_

_I thought you'd like to know._

_V._

Orion stared in shock.

What the hell was a 'Vox Magi' and why would they try to kidnap him?

It felt like someone was teasing him in a way. But, these were the only snippets of information he got from the outside; the staff never talked about anything important going on outside, especially concerning Orion and Viscaria's situation besides some recycled rubbish he already knew.

All he heard was boring stuff about how bad the weather was or a scandalous article by Prize-winning journalist for the Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter, blah blah blah...!

A box of crayons slammed right on front of him on the table, making Orion jump and look around widely.

"You're brooding, again," Kai said matter-of-factly, sitting down from across from him. The boy smiled, putting a large piece of parchment on the table, some messy paint brushes on the table, a few pencil and an inkpot. "You should stop doing that," he said sitting down.

Orion gave him a look, before faltering. "...Oh, I guess you're right. It's just I've got a lot on my mind," he sighed, his eyes unconsciously sliding over to Viscaria, who was sitting by herself painting what looked like a very rough-looking tree. "You know. Lot going on."

"Like your cousin, mate," Kai said knowingly, following his gaze.

"It's... just a lot going on," he said lamely, feeling some apprehension rising up in his stomach. Kai gave him a smug, knowing look. "...You realise that curiosity killed the Kneazle, right?"

"Yeah, but curiosity brought it back," the other boy replied, picking up a red crayon and beginning to rub it against his picture. A picture Orion had just noticed was of something that looked like fire, again.

"Fire, again, really? Why is it always fire with you?" Orion asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

Kai paused, blinking at him. "I just like it. It's... it's hard to describe," he said, his eyes becoming wristful. "You know? It's..." He became a little more defensive. "You wouldn't get it, nobody fucking does, man," he just said, biting his lip and bristling in his chair a little.

"Well, I'll try, 'man'. Just tell me," he said honestly, scrunching up his brow. "Come on, I like to think we're friends. We should be, you're the only person I practically... 'fucking' talk to these days," Orion added with a smile.

Kai's brow scrunched up, then his face and he gave Orion a troubled look. "You... you know, I'm a half-blood, right? Not the good kind even..." he said, his hand gripping the table a little tighter and Orion felt his stomach churn. "My mum's a Muggle and my dad... was a Squib."

Why did he have to say it aloud...?

Why...?

Orion looked away. "...We shouldn't talk about this," he said quietly, not having the will to look Kai in the eye. "Just don't talk about it. Don't ruin it..." He raised his head and looked Kai right in the eye, sucking in a breath through his teeth. "Just tell me the 'bloody' story already, mate!"

Kai hesitated. "Well..." he swallowed, licking his lips and this must have been the first time Orion had seen some vulnerability. "You see... fire is awesome. Just the way it starts, like a little star and then it grows." A smile grew on Kai's face. "Just how it moves, eating and eating, getting stronger." He looked excited, talking faster. "My mum, my mum, she had these matches... you know what matches are?"

Orion rolled his eyes. "Like the one's you hide in your toilet?"

"Well, not toilet-toilet - if they get wet, they suck. I balance them on those pumpy-things in that thing-tank on it," Kai said, ever-the-brilliant describer. "Anyway, it was my birthday, you know. Mum lit the candles with the matches; they sang 'happy birthday', told me to blow them out..."

"And, I'm guessing you didn't?" Orion said, raising an eyebrow.

"No. I did. But, I regretted it," Kai said, pursing his lips. "There was a moment between. I was getting ready, taking in a big breathe and leaning down to... focusing... it was the first time I noticed how pretty it was. It just flickered, glowed and it was so warm against my face... the wax oozing onto the cake bit by bit..."

Orion snorted. "That's how all candles are..."

"I know. I just didn't realise how beautiful, alive it was," Kai said with a grin, before grimacing. "I blew out it all for some stupid, dry cake they'd bought the day before. At first I didn't get it... but, I wanted to go back to that moment before." Orion was beginning to regret asking. "One time, I found them when my mum and dad were out-"

"Wasn't your nanny there?" Orion said, frowning.

Kai just gave him a look. "A fuckin' nanny? Do you think I'm rich enough to have Mary-fuckin'-Poppins changing my nappy?" he laughed under his breath, glancing around to see if any of the staff had heard (which they thankfully had not).

Well, it looked like even Kai could be quelled the possibility of isolation.

"...So, you took the matches, right? Did you set something on fire?" Orion pressed, rolling his eyes.

"At first, I didn't. I'd just looked at them, you know," Kai said, shaking his head with a nostalgic smile. "One day, I decided to take them and... well, a week later, I set fire to the shed." He chuckled, giving Orion a look. "They didn't even know it was me. It was great."

There was suddenly a loud clang and strange, wet sound. "Oh, I'm so sorry," said the most insincere voice possible of Mathilda Greenford rang out from the other side of the room.

Everyone turned to see Mathilda standing right next to a stark-still Viscaria, who had purple paint splattered all over her tree picture and some drenching her white dress.

Ms Mccubbin walked over. "What's the matter?"

"It was an accident, miss. I was reaching over get some paint and it fell off," Mathilda said 'regretfully'. "I didn't me for it to fall over her painting. I'm sorry."

Viscaria was stark silent.

Ms Mccubin's gave Viscaria a concerned look. "...Viscaria?"

As if her name was a switch, Viscaria suddenly let out a furious cry and lunged at Mathilda, her nails digging into the girl's hair and wrenching her back.

"Get off me, freak!" Mathilda shrieked, flailing.

Viscaria teeth sunk into the other girl's shoulder, making her scream.

Ms Mccubbin tried to restrain her, but Viscaria ended up kicking everything close to her while trying to claw Mathilda's eyes out. Before she sunk to the ground in exhaustion, panting heavily and giving everyone a deathly glare from the edge of her eye.

"Well, at least you can say she's was letting it out," Kai said, staring at the fiasco happening before their eyes.

Orion stared. "...Yeah."

* * *

**1st February, 1987**

* * *

Peering over, Orion looked at her work.

She had spent hours just painting a single tree, again. Laying it on thick, over and over, again, until it almost soaked through the back of the white canvas. It was a red, thick tree on that seemed to be on a strange hill, judging by the messy strokes of orange, green and yellow underneath.

It wasn't a very happy painting.

Maybe, that was why the Healers had extended Viscaria's sessions by a quarter of an hour and increased her daily, medicinal potions? Concerned and curious, he managed to corner her one afternoon in the empty Art room, where she was sneakily painting unsupervised.

She had her back to him and was blocking his view of the painting, but he was sure it was a mouse or maybe a rat or a hamster...? Really, it looked like anything that was small, had two small ears... and were those supposed to be feet?

"What are you doing...?" he asked, realising she hadn't noticed him.

She continued to paint, nonplussed. "It's a gift I'm making, Orion."

"Really...?" Orion asked, creasing his brow. "For who...?"

She tilted her head to him, pushing her finger against her lips in a 'shushing' motion. "It's a secret, that's why I haven't even put my name on it. Don't tell anyone," she whispered, grinning from ear-to-ear. "...Mathilda will be getting it. It's supposed to be her pet hamster. It's a peace offering."

Orion stared at her. "Um... wasn't she the one who hid your stuff, destroyed your work, insulted you... and, and... you're giving her a gift?" he said, thinking maybe Viscaria had somehow managed to acquire more brain damage - this was a joke, right?

The Viscaria he knew would just have belittled, insulted and got her own back on anyone who did that. She would not have given them a bloody gift! This was off.

"That's what a peace offerings are for, dummy," Viscaria sighed as if it was obvious. Noticing his look, she rolled her eyes and needlessly elaborated. "...To stop conflict."

"Right... I know what a peace offering for," he said dryly, giving her a glare. Did she think he was an idiot? Probably. Then, a thought occurred to him. "...Uh, wait... but, how will she know it's you if it's such a secret...?" he said, giving her a confused look.

"What?" Viscaria muttered, her tone a little more brittle.

"How will she know if it's supposed to be a secret?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

Viscaria paused before a faint smile curled on her lips. "Oh, she'll know..."

And, that was pretty much all he could gleam from her for days about it. So, he'd given up and just went with the flow. It probably didn't even matter - he was being paranoid. But, her skin was too pale, her eyes dead and deader, and she'd even stopped combing her hair - not that the administration had let it go completely out of control - but, she was been barely even audible most of time.

Except...

* * *

Mrs Malfoy had come to visit, although Mr Malfoy lacking due to Ministry Business.

Orion smiled up from his chair in the Visitor's Room, here was his chance to find about a little about this so-called 'Vox Magi'. "Hey, Mrs Malfoy. What's the Vox Magi?" he asked innocently as he could, rolling the name on his tongue.

The smile on Mrs Malfoy was frozen, shock entering her eyes for a blink. "The 'Vox Magi'...? Well, I don't know what you mean," she said rather lamely, and Orion felt a bit of smugness that'd he'd got her. "I don't believe I've heard of... that word or name. Where'd you hear it, dear?"

"Well..." Orion smiled innocently, tapping his chin. "I think one of the staff mentioned it. Can't remember who."

Mrs Malfoy smiled a little too widely. "Obviously mindless gossip."

"I guess so..." Orion said, stifling a grin.

It was at that moment Viscaria chose to speak for the first time. "You smile like them..."

"What?" Mrs Malfoy said, looking bemused and worried.

"You smile like them..." And, that was all Viscaria ever really said on the matter before going back to her whole silent act.

Mrs Malfoy hadn't been impressed, not in the least. He knew this, because maybe he did eavesdrop a little - just a little - outside the Head Healer's office door. Unfortunately he'd missed most the conversation, because he had to keep dodging about when a healer went by, but he heard one of the most interesting bits at least.

"...She looks like a corpse!" Mrs Malfoy had hissed, her voice slithering through the thin door. "...No, I don't have time for useless excuses. I'll make a donation of three-hundred galleons, and you'll treat Viscaria like a princess and Orion like a prince. I don't want him or her even hearing whispers about the Vox Magi!"

There was a pause.

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy..." came the half-nervous, half-delighted voice of Mr Humberston. The balding, rather plump, black Head Healer who dressed in burgundy suits three-piece suits and brown-striped bowtie; which seemed like they may have cost him a pretty sickle with how he skipped over doing any actual hands-on work, but still looked kind of cheap.

Not that Orion was a fashion expert or anything...

"Thank you, dear. Now I expect this to be between us; token of a bargain well-struck," Mrs Malfoy said primly. "Wouldn't want any rumours about this establishment slipping to the press..."

The words hung in the air like incense.

Orion hid behind a corner as Mrs Malfoy swept from the room and out of sight.

He smiled.

Well, at least she cared.

She came down much more often than her husband. Although, Orion understood that Mr Malfoy was a very busy man.

And, the changes were immediate.

Orion certainly liked how he was getting better food and service than before, even if he could do without everyone sending him jealous looks. He felt so subconscious and guilty at times, he practically let Kai nick half his food!

But, the changes weren't entirely fruitful.

Viscaria's hair may have been combed better. Steaming pies, mash, bacon, poached eggs and more, put on her plate like a high-class restaurant. Clothes cleaned and pressed more frequently. Bath-time stretched to her leisure. She may have got a few extra smiles, compliments and encouraging pats on the shoulder.

But, even that hadn't stopped a drowning girl.

Mathilda's pet hamster was still. He could still hear the half-squeaks. But, it was silent and still and so way everybody else, besides Mathilda.

He'd felt his stomach drop and empty in the sink.

But, he never told a soul because Viscaria truly smiled for the first time in months.

* * *

_It's all your fault._

_Yes, you. I know you read these._

_Viscaria's in a bad place. She's not right, and you're not making it better. You're hurting my friend. She killed Mathilda's pet rat yesterday - Viscaria wouldn't do that, she likes animals and nature and stuff._

_Why can't you help her?_

_You're supposed to help, that's what Mr Malfoy said._

_Merlin, you suck._

_Orion Black._

He scrunched up the letter and threw it into the bin.

* * *

**A.N: Yeah, so this was kind of a second part to the previous chapter - originally I was going to publish them at the same time, but I had to re-edit bits of this one.**

** I'm still re-working on this one at the moment and other parts of my fic.**


	10. Chapter 9: Broken Arm

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 9: Broken Arm**

* * *

**6th February, 1987**

* * *

"Have you seen them?"

Their watchful eyes were focused on her.

Narcissa smiled.

It ought to have reached her eyes, but didn't quite.

She collected herself. "Yes... I've seen them. They're recovering well." The edges of her smile more and more like razors against her skin. "The healers say they're making good progress and they'll recover soon enough in no time." Did the lie sound as false to them as it did to her? She hoped not.

"Does that line work on everyone before visiting hours are over...?" Diana chortled. Perfectly mocking, perfectly pitying; if only Narcissa wasn't so well-bred. "Now, I don't mean to sound abrasive, but-"

"Funny, you always do," Phylis hissed.

Practically sprawled on the sofa, Visinia Zabini raised her glass, her eyes glittering. "Oh, more wine, please," the beautiful witch said and in flash her glass was instantly filled. They looked at her. "...What? I like to be tipsy when Phylis and Diana go for round fifty..." She gave them a sultry smile, her dark eyes half-lidded.

_Was Phylis more offended or Diana?_ Narcissa mused, diligently sipping her calming herbal tea.

Well, at least they weren't going after her now.

"Really, Visinia? Can't you take anything seriously?" Phylis snapped, her melodrama showing.

Diana was less eloquent. "Oh. I didn't know a one who traipses around like some common pixie could be so judgemental...?" she said, frowning in light confusion, as she sipped her tea.

Narcissa made a note never to let Diana and Veloria meet.

"Better a 'slut' than a brittle ginger far past her bloom," Visinia laughed, her drink sloshing. Oh, sweet Merlin! Narcissa really hoped Visinia wasn't drunk after all those bottles. "Tell me..." Her voice was sweet. "When your husband gets around to... 'loving' you every few months, as is his obligation, do you scrap little bit off him each time...?" she taunted.

The red-haired witch choked on her tea, Adonia turned her head away, smiling, Phylis looked caught between disgusted and smug while Narcissa just wanted the sofa to swallow her.

Romaisa made a loud cough, deciding to intervene. "...Ladies... That's... that's very offensive. We don't tolerate that sort of language at this book club." Visinia just tipped her glass at her with an arched eyebrow before downing its contents. "Diana, what happened to those children is no joking matter. Imagine if it was your child. Would you take kindly to such abrasive remark on such a sensitive topic?"

Narcissa smiled.

This was why most of the time Narcissa liked Romaisa the best... the sensible one.

"Oh, wouldn't happen to my child. My warding is superb," Diana said quite smugly, thankfully distracted from the cutting barb.

Phylis sighed. "If you say so."

"I do say so. Are you deaf?"

"Of course, if you say so," the brunette witch said dryly, raising up her hands in half-hearted surrender. "You dumb bitch..." she added, a moment later, under her breath so quietly that only Adonia and Narcissa were thankfully the only ones to hear her clearly.

"What was that?" Diana snapped, narrowing her heads.

"She didn't say anything, Diana." Adonia said flatly, tilting her head "...Are you hearing things?"

The red-haired witch gave her a blank look, but didn't pry.

Honestly, Narcissa would pay Galleon upon Galleon for friends who actually liked each other. Too bad sentiment wasn't at all useful. "Does anyone want to get back to the book...?" she asked, almost imploringly, as she gave each of them a soft but warning look.

"Ohh, well..." Visinia tapped her chin with a long fingernail. "I suppose I'd define this book's message as beauty is only skin deep and stupid is to the bone."

Diana rolled her eyes. "Your life story, right?"

The dark-skinned witch smiled, her voice becoming like honey. "...Posey is raped by the Mudblood, despite several opportunities to use her wand." Their eyes began to widen. "Then she kills herself by jumping off Valley Bridge. The end."

Why?

There was a silence for a moment.

"Why did you have to spoil the ending... again!?" Phylis exploded, almost screeching.

"She's spoils everything. Are you really that surprised?" Diana raised well-plucked eyebrow, slipping out a little red book called 'Bells of Red' from her breast-jacket pocket and beginning to silently read it to herself.

Adonia snorted. "Really, that's the ending...? That's not the ending, ladies. I've read this book before." She turned to the them, Narcissa, Romaisa and Phylis looking at her hopefully. "...Posey kills herself by slipping off Valling Bridge when the mob of mudbloods are chasing her after he raped her. She didn't jump," she said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Phylis had a pained expression on her face.

Narcissa and Romaisa looked disappointed between the spoiler and the fact that was the actual ending.

Visinia smiled. "As much as I... admire this trashy novella, can we get onto my suggestion for what next to read? The Bloody Wand by Elga Coulter... I think you'd like it, some of you might even feel a connection with the characters."

Narcissa felt like that wasn't a compliment.

Romaisa let out a deep sigh, shaking her head.

Diana flat out ignored them, continuing to read her own book.

Phylis folded her arms and gritted her teeth, almost like a petulant child.

And, honestly, was it wrong of Narcissa to then laugh out loud right then...? They were like a group of children on the playground and this house had been devoid of that for far too long...

* * *

**15th February, 1987**

* * *

_Easy._

_You pressed, squeezed, pressed and pop._

_The dream started it. Like all things, it started in a dream._

The ground wrapped in white, everywhere a wet sheet that glowed in the moonlight. Absent was the needless clinging cold that bit her pinkening fingers. The requiem of dull clouds that had suffocated the clear sky was underway.

The creatures weren't dead and the warmth burned pleasantly. Nature was perfected in the distance she had made.

It was Ms Mccubbin who ruined it. "Viscaria, what are you doing out here? It's freezing, silly girl."

She was forced back inside despite her protests, despite how she wasn't blue yet. All she wanted to do was remember the red dress, the warmth of the flames, the smiles of her parents she kept forgetting, the cakes and sweets, and the wrappings. It wasn't a crime.

Not that they understood.

_Blood. Glass._

They'd been hysteric.

They'd shook her tiny shoulders until it hurt.

Stern words and yelling. Fear, but not for her, but for them and their hairy hearts. The clock fixed itself right up soon enough and all there was was smiles, smiles and smiles. Their incessant hands patting her shoulder, her back, touching her hands, her arms as if pieces were coming out.

Mathilda had noticed that. Teased her mercilessly, like a bully.

Well, until that day... B-But, she wasn't ready to talk about that. Not even allowed to think about it.

Good little girls.

Good little witches.

Good little princesses.

Good little madams.

She ate her greens. She did as the adults told her. She always dressed correctly, smiled the right smile and only spoke when spoken to in formal situations. So, she was a good girl. She was; her mummy had told her so. Everyone said so.

_"...Isn't she perfect?"_

_"...Isn't she pretty?"_

_"...Isn't she lovely?"_

_"...Oh, you're so lucky Narcissa."_

_"...Oh, she's so precious, Narcissa."_

Faces looming over with plastic smiles. Always were plastic.

She had had such a perfect life, even with the less perfect bits, hadn't she? How special she was. A Malfoy. Everyone bent a knee a Malfoy; everyone knows that. You just needed to read a history book to figure that out.

_Blood._

All was forgiven.

"If people didn't know their place, then it would be chaos and death..." It was her father who had that.

She hadn't done anything wrong. There was no need for punishment.

Freely swinging in cobweb of white strings, ugly and pathetic as can be. All it took was cheese, her tiptoes straining and nimble fingers working, and it had left her grasp and floated up until it hung.

That morning, Mathilda had cried.

She'd kicked and screamed, shriveling like a burning leaf trapped trapped for all to see.

She cried.

Cried buckets and buckets and buckets until she couldn't.

She cried for her teasing. Her nightmares. Her panic attacks. Her emotional outbursts. Her fears. Her breakfast. All there was was a girl who'd lost her father, her mother, her pet and she deserved it.

Viscaria sucked in a breath of air. Her lips were dry and flaky.

Maybe the girl knew, but it didn't matter for now. Her secret was safe; two people could keep a secret when one was asleep. A week ago, Mathilda's hamster had died and, two days ago the girl had tried and failed to follow suit.

Quick as a blink, Mathilda had quickly been rushed off in a flurry of hands and white figures. She'd forgotten to lock the door, such a little thing and that was all it could take. And, now the girl rested in the infirmary with much dotting and pumpkin juice, monitored with great scrutiny.

But, she only had to be lucky once...

Viscaria shook her head. She didn't know, she hadn't. It wasn't her fault. She felt the butterflies in her stomach spread their wings. Her bare foot touched the cool tile, making her shiver.

Maybe, she should go to see her...?

No.

She smiled, resting her head against the soft pillow.

It wasn't her fault.

It wasn't. It was Mathilda's...

* * *

_Dear Diary._

_I like painting little animals, did you know that?_

_They're so cute._

_They're so pathetic._

_Like me._

_Lovingly,_

_Viscaria._

* * *

**6th March, 1987**

* * *

Orion was sitting on his bed when the door opened.

"...It looks like you're going home, Orion," Mrs Cauldwell said, stranding in the doorway with an unpleased expression on her face and a box in her hands.

"Home?" Orion said, looking up with surprise eyes. "Really?"

Mrs Cauldwell gave him a smile. "Yes, all the necessary papers were stamped this morning," she said, briskly stepping into the room and putting the box on his nightstand.

He blinked. "Why now?" It had surprised him how long they took to see he was fine. Not exactly the most amazing healers of this generation, he had an inkling.

"Why not? You're relatively healthy and it's thought you'd be able to adjust back," she said, before her smile became a little more mirthful. "Unless you like staying here, dear...?"

He quickly shook his head, standing up. "No, no, it's fine. I'll go," he said, beginning to put a few items - and he only had a few - into his box like his night-lamp, his clock and his Christmas presents into the box while Mrs Cauldwell patiently watched him. "Done. Am I going now...?"

Mrs Cauldwell nodded. "Yes... you are."

"What about Viscaria?" Orion said, a thought occurring to him.

"Viscaria... she has been having troubles these past few months, as I'm sure you're aware," Mrs Cauldwell said, looking at him carefully. "She just needs a little more time, I'm afraid."

Orion felt his stomach twist. "How much time?"

"I'm afraid I don't know and if I did I would be obligated not to tell, I'm sorry," she said, stepping aside and gesturing to the open door. "The Malfoys are waiting for you in the lobby."

Mechanically picking up the box, feeling his stomach drop, Orion turned to face the Medi-witch. "Were you the one leaving me notes?" he asked finally, giving her a suspicious look.

Mrs Cauldwell gave him a confused look. "What notes?"

Orion paused, frowning. "I guess not... It's nothing," he said rather unconvincingly, but thankfully Mrs Cauldwell didn't pry (after all, it didn't matter now that he was leaving).

"Well, come along," she said, stepping aside and gesturing towards the door. "The Malfoys are eager to see you. I'm sure."

Although he could still barely believe it, Orion followed the orders obediently, holding the box close to his chest as he walked out of the room and down the hallway, Mrs Cauldwell following behind him like a bodyguard. Soon enough, he'd be going home... and, he felt relieved and happy, but...

He was the only one going home.

What was going to happen to Viscaria...? How long would she have to be stuck here until she could come home? Orion wasn't an idiot it, it wasn't like he'd call Viscaria 'relatively healthy' at the moment.

And, Merlin, what was going to happen to Kai? He wasn't even sure if he'd ever see that... friend again. He blinked, frowning - he felt sadder than he thought he'd be on that front, in fact he thought he'd be so happy to finally just get out of this place and while he was it wasn't perfect.

"Can I say goodbye to Viscaria and... Kai?" Orion said hesitantly, turning to look up at Mrs Cauldwell imploringly. "I mean, it's just since I'm leaving, I should..."

Mrs Cauldwell paused. "...Well, Viscaria's in high-level isolation at the moment - there was an incident," she said carefully, and Orion felt his heart sink. "But... Malachai Pagget? I suppose... yeah, I suppose we could." She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'll take you to his room, but keep it brief."

Orion smiled weakly. "Thank you."

It wasn't really a long trek towards Kai's room, in fact it was just down the corridor. Mrs Cauldwell quickly fished out her keys and fiddled with it, before slotting the right one into the door and turning them while Orion tried to keep his breath level.

How was Kai going to react?

As the door opened, Orion saw Kai practically jumping up from his bed looking at little surprised and almost sheepish as if he'd been something bad. Then, again, that was fondly a given with Kai.

Orion stepped forward while Mrs Cauldwell dutifully watched from the doorway. "Hey, Kai... I'm leaving. They're releasing me," he said hesitantly, feeling a rise of guilt as he looked around Kai's room which somehow looked even worse than his! "I'm here to say goodbye."

"Oh..." Kai said simply.

"Yeah, I've been released," Orion said, looking down, not being able to look him in the eye.

There was a brief pause, before Kai smiled reassuringly at him. "Hey, don't worry, mate, we'll meet again." He leaned in closer, glancing at the Medi-Witch standing by the doorway. "When I get my wand, after I burn this place to the ground, I'll find you," he said, staring him in the eye.

Orion felt uneasy, feeling like he maybe someone should teeth Kai about personal space. "...Ah, yeah, O-Okay," he swallowed, smiling weakly at him. "Sound's good, uh, Kai."

"No, it'll be fuckin' great!" Kai cheered, throwing his arms up like an explosion and grinning.

Mrs Cauldwell coughed. "Orion, it's time to go."

"Oh..." Orion paused. "Goodbye, Kai."

Kai smiled at him. "See ya, Orion."

Once Mrs Cauldwell and Orion had walked down the corridor and had turned into the stairwell, the woman spoke uneasily. "What did Kai whisper to you?" She looked quite concerned, as if she thought he'd divulged a secret plan to eventually blow up the hospital - which, wait, he had kind of done.

Fingers tapping the metal banister, Orion looked up with a convincingly innocent smile. "He told me that at least he still had Viscaria to keep him company.

"Him and Viscaria are friends?" the brown-but-greying-haired witch said, puzzled.

"In manner of speaking. He likes her," Orion said vaguely. In truth, the only reason and thing Kai seemed to like about Viscaria was when she had her 'entertaining' fits and ended up injuring someone like Mathilda or the staff or Saint Mungo's property. "They played Exploding Snap once," he lied.

She frowned as they reached the last step. "...I see."

They continued on their way into the lobby, which was abuzz as usual with all sorts of craziness. A witch with a red nose that look like it was trying to reach across the room. A struggling wizard with bursting, purple boils being pushed onto a stretcher. One man was wheezing loudly, his neck looking like an ostrich's. There were also quite an amount of people rushing around stretchers and a surprising number looking pretty badly burned.

Straining his eyes through the madness, he found glimpses of long, blonde hair and deathly pale faces.

Mrs Cauldwell seemed to have seen it as well, her hand pressing against his back. "Come along, Orion," she said as she navigated him through the crowds.

Mrs Malfoy was sitting on a chair, her legs pressed together and her hands on her lap. She looked anxious, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her forehead. Mr Malfoy was stood with hands behind his back, intently staring at the newspaper headlines in the rack. In fact, he was obstructing traffic considering how a old, frail wizard with green ears and a cane was trying to get past.

"Would you mind moving, please?" the frail wizard said hesitantly..

The blond wizard didn't even bother to look. "Mind yourself."

Orion glanced back, noticing Mrs Cauldwell's face flicker with distaste as she looked at Mr Malfoy. "Mr Malfoy, Mrs Malfoy, good evening," she said, putting up an amiable front as they approached, pushing Orion a little more forward. "I hope you haven't been waiting too long."

Mrs Malfoy's gaze flickered up, a smile lighting up her elegant features.

Mr Malfoy's lip curled. "Well, your hopes is wasted," he snipped dismissively, turning his gaze to Orion and Orion flinched at the flicker of cold in them. "...Orion. Why, it's been so long I almost forgot your name," he said thoughtfully, looking down at him with faint, not very reassuring amusement.

Orion blinked, glancing back.

Mrs Cauldwell had gone off and was kindly helping was the green-eared, frail wizard that Mr Malfoy had been blocking.

Was it too late to run back to the 'Happy Room'...?

After giving her husband a sharp look, Mrs Malfoy stood up from her chair and stepped towards him with a smile. "Ignore him, Orion. It's good to see you, again," she said warmly, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him tightly. "The manor just hasn't been the same without you."

Orion returned the hug, smiling into her shoulder. "I missed you too."

* * *

**16th March, 1987**

* * *

He'd been home for a while now.

But, that didn't mean things just went back to normal. Yes, he was glad to be rid of Saint Mungo's, of the people who acted as if they knew every thought running through his head, but he missed Viscaria - the old Viscaria even more it ached - and Kai.

He was still waiting for Viscaria to come home.

And, he was keeping an eye out to see if Saint Mungo's mysteriously burned down in the near future.

"It's your move," Draco said smugly, as his white, Castle piece finished sliding onto D4 on the chess board, bringing Orion back to the present and his bedroom. "Better get ready to lose, loser," the boy taunted, taking a sip of his orange juice and triumphantly grinning.

It was still surprising that Draco had taken to chess.

Orion rolled his eyes, smirking. "Knight to D4." The blond boy's eyes widened in horror as Orion's black Knight three-down and one-left, smashing the white Castle piece away in the process and taking its place. "What was that about losing...?"

Draco folded his arms, scowling."That's not fair."

"Yes, it is fair," Orion stressed, his irritation rising at the fact that both Malfoy siblings never took loses well.

The blond boy remained stubborn. "I demand a re-do."

"You're not getting one." Orion gave the boy a tight smile, while Draco's scowl just deepened. "Let's move on and finish the game."

"I'm done playing with you," Draco said, sneering as he began to stand up, grabbing his drink and looking very ready to storm off in a huff.

Orion felt a teasing grin edge onto his face. "So, if you're quitting, well, that means I win," he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. Draco paused in his movements, looking conflicted. "...I would call it a good game, but it wasn't ex-"

"Fine," Draco huffed, sitting back down.

Orion mentally cheered at the small victory. "Your move."

Draco leaning closer to the board until his face was almost touching his pieces, scrutinising it with his narrowing, grey eyes. "...Hmm, Bishop to H8." The piece began to slide across the board and Orion could have kicked himself when it ended up usurping his Castle that he'd left stationary so far in the game. "Hah hah, what was that about lo-osing!"

Orion didn't know whether to scowl or be grudgingly impressed; he did both. "Good move, I guess." He sighed, resting his arms on the table and looking more closely over the board, quickly realising one of his Castles was in danger. "Second Knight to C5." He looked up to find Draco looking at him strangely. "What?"

"You know, I still don't get what happened," Draco said and Orion didn't need to guess what he was on about. "2H Pawn to 4H..."

"Join the club," Orion said glumly. "Bishop to 4H."

There were so many questions.

The notes, for one. He'd received none since he'd returned to the Malfoy Manor, so he guessed it was a Saint Mungo's thing. Likely, a member of staff - although Mrs Cauldwell seemed innocent, her co-workers probably weren't. Malfoy Manor's security was probably a bit too tight-nit for any trespassers right now.

Maybe, it was for the best...

Although, sketchy as they were, those notes had honestly tipped him off that Viscaria and his kidnappers were those militant extremists the 'Vox Magi'. From sneaking glimpses at Mr Malfoy newspapers, it looked like they'd blown up tons of shit already.

"Oh, come on. Answer the question!" Draco moaned, barely even noticing his piece get smashed as he looked at him imploringly.

Orion sighed while scanning the board. "Ask you parents."

"I did. They wouldn't tell me anything," the blond boy grumbled in frustration.

"Maybe that's a good thing," Orion said. "Second Knight to D3."

Draco glared at him. "I'm not a little kid."

"Right, you're so mature," Orion said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Remember who you threw a tantrum because our birthdays are so close and you thought my presents would have been yours if I wasn't here?" He smirked. "Aren't you going to take you turn?"

"I'm. Thinking," Draco ground out. "And, that thing you just said was forever ago! It doesn't count, I've changed since you've been gone."

Orion sighed, having a feeling Draco wouldn't let this go because he was so stubborn. "Look, I'm sure wherever Viscaria is, she's being waited hand and foot like a princess."

Everyone was feeling the affects of Viscaria's absence. When he asked about her, Mrs Malfoy would smiled so sadly at him and tell him she would be back "Soon..." and "Soon...", again and again. And, Mr Malfoy sometimes looked at him with steel-like eyes as if he was to blame...

He almost shivered.

"You think I care about her? I just want to know."

"Curiosity killed the Kneazle," Orion said.

The blond boy rolled his eyes. "But, satisfaction brought it back."

"Why does everyone know the comeback to that?" Orion sighed, shaking his head.

"Why do you keep saying it then?"

Orion frowned. "...Shut up."

"Well, I'm going to find out anyway. Just tell me."

"And, make your life even easier, not a chance," Orion said teasingly. "Still you're move, by the way."

"You're so boring. I knew you'd be like this," Draco sneered at him. "I can't believe I'm playing this stupid game with you!"

"You mean you're only playing this game to get answers out of me. You're hurting my feelings, Draco," he said easily, stretching out his arms and then smugly folding them.

"Well, you're only playing with me because Viscaria isn't here," Draco accused firmly. Orion paused, giving him a look, but unsure of what to say; at first he wanted to retort meanly, but he wasn't sure if he should. "...Hah, what? Kneazle got your tongue?"

"Okay, will we just stop with the 'Kneazles' and finish this game already." Orion felt his frustration rise. "Oh well, fine. All I know is the 'Vox Magi' tried kidnapped us for some reason and we've spent the last few months at Saint Mungo's getting better. There, happy now?"

Draco stared, open-mouthed and paling. "'Vox Magi'?"

Orion blinked. "You know it."

"I-I've heard dad and mum mention them when he thought I wasn't there," the blond boy stammered, looking a little sick. "They're... they're bad people. They blew up Diagon Alley and they h-hate us Malfoys."

Well, only a very small part of it...

"Yes, they are."

As for 'hating' the Malfoys? Maybe this was more 'personal' than a 'ransom'? Or, Draco was just being an idiot... an equally probable possibility.

Draco swallowed dryly. "What did they do to you guys...?" he said, an edge of worry in his voice despite how he tried to gulp it down.

"I think there are bigger questions than that," Orion said, smiling a little frostily. "...If you let it slip I told you any of this to your parents, I'll tell them you've been spying on them all this time." The blond boy paled. "We're on the same broomstick. Don't tip it over."

Draco blinked. "I see..."

"Now, are we going to finish this game or not...?"

* * *

_Dear Diary._

_My parents are taking too long._

_They're so late._

_They're never late._

_I just thought you should know._

_Viscaria._

* * *

**2nd May, 1987**

* * *

**Viscaria.**

She remembered she had been alone.

Orion was gone.

Mathilda continued to irritate her, a sign of her recovery. Oh, but that didn't stop the girl from getting a little bad luck every once and while. Saint Mungo's had had play to increase bonds and fun that just ended up dividing everyone.

_"Break a leg..." she whispered, clicking her tongue._

_Just like that, Mathilda managed to slip on stage and actually break her arm. The idiot. Her scream almost made Viscaria's ears ring._

It was Viscaria who ended up playing Amata in the Fountain of Fair Fortune; that settled her unease too easily. Raising her voice as everyone looked at her - the staff smiled, people clapped - as she spoke her lines, singing the songs with a voice so perfect.

Look how they'd cheered and clapped!

_Her mother had said she'd always had a beautiful voice..._

It was the thud of a stamp that brought her back to reality, its echoed made her smile. Her release papers were stamped; she could go home now. She'd never think of Saint Mungo's again, she'd forget this unnecessary nightmare of her life.

When she'd been taken down to the lobby, the first thing was her mother's arms encasing her, burying her face in her shoulder. "Viscaria, my darling!" she cried, the relief so thick you couldn't swallow it.

It was funny...

...For a moment, she'd forgotten she how to hug back. Very silly of her. It took her a few moments, slowly wrapping her arms around her mother's back. She smiled when she had completed the gesture, satisfied.

"I love you, mum," she said, having nothing else to say.

Eventually after a few more moments, her mother slowly and very reluctantly let her go.

It was her father's turn now. He had an odd expression on his face, but it seemed to be mostly a smile so Viscaria wasn't too worried. "My darling daughter..." The words were awkward, everyone knew it. "Welcome back..." he said more strongly, bending down to her level.

He hugged her.

She hugged him back.

And, they took her home. Just like that.

None of it haunted her. Why would it_?_ Her would-be kidnapper got what he deserved without a doubt. His face - oh, who could remember his face? - his face no longer appeared in her dreams. Nor, the long, thick hairpin she had shoved right through his neck. Even her hands were clean; the bloodied splotches had washed away.

It was if it had never happened.

As if nothing had changed. Her parents seemed to like that. It was like a fixed clock, the old routine began anew. Her dresses were laid out for, as was her food ("Oh, Viscaria, don't eat so much! You'll turn into a balloon!"), her curriculum resumed now under Ms Kettletoft for the time-being - what to say, who to like, what to like, what was worth knowing, meticulously drilled in once again - and, as always, what could be perceived as the slightest inflection on her part was smoothed away.

Entrapment at its finest hour - day after day.

Eventually, the clock ticked and then it didn't. Sometimes, eventually in time, it would never click again.

Folded on her bed was a violet piece of paper. You could say the dreams came back all because of that.

* * *

**A.N: Cake is a lie.**


	11. Chapter 10: Heavy Wing

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Chapter 10: Heavy Wing**

* * *

**11th July, 1987**

* * *

Things were not going well for Orion.

Viscaria was distant. She had a hairy heart.

Her smiles didn't brighten her eyes like they used to. It hurt, even more after waiting for her for so long. Not a day had went by when he thought about her coming home, and when she did she wasn't the same.

It felt like Orion should have been able to talk to her. Like before.

They should have been talking. They should have laughed about how horrible the food had been the first couple of months. There should have been insults, mocking and then hug and smile at the end.

Now, Viscaria barely talked to him. She only did the bare minimum at best, and he suspected her best was mostly the result of Mrs Malfoy's pestering. It was like he wasn't worth anything at all.

Yes, sometimes he played with Draco and Draco was alright... but, they didn't quite connect in the same way.

Orion had found himself more in his room, sulking. Sometimes Mrs Malfoy would catch him, smile sadly and tell something to try to raise his hopes.

_"It will all be better soon."_

Lies.

Mrs Malfoy couldn't know that.

Nobody knew what was going to happen next.

* * *

It was a sunny day.

Mrs Berrow had swiftly dropped Darius off, but wasn't staying, apparently she had some '_business to attend to'_. The next was Mrs Winikus, late as ever; she was attending, but her daughter was too ill to come, and it seemed she was quite sickly these days. Unlike before, Viscaria hadn't even complained that they were missing a person for whatever game she'd have thought up.

Mrs Malfoy smiled an awkwardly bright smile. "Well, you kids have fun..."

"Hopefully not too much 'fun'," Mrs Greengrass remarked, her eyes narrowing. "I don't mean to be callous, but who really knows how much they've changed in Saint Mungo's…? That institution is a nightmare."

Well, at least she was right about that last bit.

"Even if Saint Mungo's rubbed the etiquette and manners of them raw to the bone, they'd still be half more mannerly than you, Diana," Mrs Malfoy chuckled unpleasantly, and Mrs Winikus gave a harsh laugh at that.

"How poetic, I can almost choke the irony of it," the red-haired witch said, smiling stiffly.

Mrs Winikus looked like she wished she did.

One of the witches who was increasingly turning up was Mrs Mustaq-Shafiq. He'd barely seen her and her son before the incident, but he supposed something must have happened to make her less of a fringe-group member. "Narcissa, thank you for having us. Let's go to the lounge, I'm itching to see what we'll be reading next," she said, giving everyone a polite smile.

Mrs Malfoy brightened considerably. "Well, Phylis suggested it... it's called the Red Songbird, by Victoria Ledbury," she said, turning around like a spindle and swiftly, gracefully striding through the threshold, expecting her friends to follow.

"Oh, she's written a book, has she?" Mrs Greengrass asked, quite disdained, trying to keep up.

"What? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the gardener?" Mrs Winikus snorted, before walking off to follow her friends.

The children exchanged looks, mostly confused.

"I don't get it," Orion sighed finally after a moment of silence.

Daphne shrugged her shoulders. "Me too," she said quietly, sending the open doorway a weird look.

"Me three!" Darius shouted exuberantly, causing Viscaria, Irfan and Orion to gasp as he wrapped his arms around them in a headlock, nearly knocking them over. Daphne had managed to dodge. "We think alike, don't we?"

"…Idiot!" snarled Irfan, struggling against the hold.

"Oi, Darius...!" Orion broke off, turning to look at Viscaria.

Viscaria was stiff as if she were stone.

"Viscaria?"

She began to tremble, swaying like a tied-down leaf in the wind.

His hand was hovering an inch from her shoulder. "Viscaria...?" he said slowly, knowing this was going to be bad.

She opened her mouth, trembling, and let out a silent shriek, collapsing to the ground. Her face was nestled in a bed of white lilies and fat yellow dandelions, her hair ribbon catching on the thorns of roses and making her hair swallow her face like a blonde pool.

Orion, Damon and Daphne were frozen.

It was like their bodies had turned to stone and all they could do was watch with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

The cold drip of sweat hit Orion's cheek, a shiver ringing across his body like a cold breeze chilling his bones. He scrambled to Viscaria's side, his knees dropping on the grass and his hands raised in confusion.

What were they going to do?

It was obvious nobody knew. Daphne just looked frightened, looking at them widely, biting her lip, Irfan baffled face was scrunched up so hard it would probably cave in, and Darius still didn't even seem to realise what had happened as his face was just fixed in shock.

Recovering second, Daphne launched herself forward. Her bright yellow, summer robes billowing around her as she jumped to her knees, roughly shaking the spasming Viscaria's side, the fear on her face impalpable.

"Viscaria!"

"Darius, you moron!" Irfan snapped, rushing over as well.

The olive-skinned boy was nearly knocked over by Darius, who in the blink on eye was kneeling at Viscaria's side and shouting her name. "Viscaria!" His hands were slack at his side, guilty in what they hand done.

Or, maybe Daphne had just pushed her too hard?

"Viscaria, oh Merlin, are you a-all r-right...?" He shook her harder.

Their eyes met and, their hands struggling, they heaved her over so she was facing the sky.

Eyes like a cloudy morning, lips moving with silent words for somebody. Her hair splayed around her like a canopy of gold strings. Her face was distant and directionless. It was like she was in a whole other world to them... with someone they couldn't see.

Suddenly, she was angry.

Her lips snarled, her eyes went cold as sleet. Her hands slowly twisting around the strands of grass, loosely wrapping around her fingers.

"Viscaria...?" Orion said hesitantly.

Her knuckles were turning white as she gripped the ground tighter. She was now smiling up at the sky like she always did when she won.

Orion almost let out a sigh of relief because it must have been a sick joke-

She thrashed and a scream tore out her throat like a banshee, ripping out the grass and throwing it in the air. "No! Nno...no! Nononoo...!" she screeched over and over again, tears sliding from eyes so wide. "Don't...don't... don't... DON'T!"

Darius looked at Orion, desperately trying to hold her down. "She won't stop…! Orion get help."

"No. We'll get in trouble..." Daphne blurted out, her voice shaking. "They'll blame us."

Orion sent the dark-haired toad a swift glare, hastily standing to his feet and beginning to run for the manor as fast his feet could carry.

His heart beating, he past the threshold of the door and nearly bashed into Mrs Winikus, who lent out a pair of hands to steady him and gracious, if annoyed, smile. "Careful, dear," she said, letting out a chuckle, as he stepped back with a frightened expression on his face.

"We heard screaming," Mrs Malfoy said sharply.

"V-Viscaria... she fell..." Orion gasped, looking at her with wide eyes.

That was all he had to say, and they swept past him like a hurricane. Mrs Malfoy most of all, who was practically running, barely balancing on her high heels, but she was running nonetheless, nearly tripping on the steps as her feet touch ground and she lost a heel in the dirt.

The mother knelt by her daughter's side, wrapping her arms around and calling her name.

Viscaria thrashed as if having a fit.

And, then she stopped like she'd hit fast into a wall. A small croak leaving her parted lips, and that was all the sound that left her for the entire day, really. The guests, mostly half-shaken, quickly left soonafter the incident, but not without some snide remark on Mrs Greengrass' side of things, and left the Malfoys and Orion to deal with Viscaria.

Mrs Malfoy had practically heaved Viscaria over her shoulder and ran into the house, and Orion follow to just catch a glimpse of them both disappearing in the harsh, green flames of the grand fireplace, leaving just smoke where they were before.

Orion just stared.

She'd just left him behind!

Then, he slapped himself. No – he reprimanded – she had bigger concerns than him; namely that her daughter had just had a mild case of crazy just there and obviously needed help somehow.

"Where's mum?" Draco said, coming up behind him and almost making him jump.

Orion turned to face him, rubbing the back of head his head. "Er… well, she's busy with something – she'll be back soon, I think. Just needs to do something, and then… that's that," he stumbled awkwardly, before pushing up a fake, bright smile. "She'll be back before you know it."

"But, I do know it," Draco said, unconvinced and rolling his eyes.

Orion groaned, resisting the urge to slap his forehead. "How about we play a game…?" he said, smiling carefully at him as his thoughts. "Anything you want. Anything."

Draco gave him a suspicious look. "Really... Anything?"

"Anything. Anything you want," he repeated, his smile straining as he thoughts went elsewhere.

As if forgetting his suspicions or simply not caring about them at the moment, Draco grinned. "...Oh, this is going to be fun," the boy said almost ominously.

Orion was a moment too slow on his part and Draco's impatient hands latched onto his arm, practically beginning to drag him down the hall while talking enthusiastically about some 'toy' he'd recently got for his pile... Orion felt irritated, but didn't feel up to it to protest.

The question on his mind: what had just happened...?

* * *

It was only an hour before Mr Malfoy arrived home, and it was just wrong how early he was. And, how troubled creased his brown and a half-sneer was on his lips at what had surely been a less-than-satisfactory day at the Ministry.

So, it likely didn't help with the nasty surprised that his wife and daughter were missing, and Orion and Draco had been left all alone in the house for a quarter of an hour.

Mr Malfoy quickly took Orion aside, leaving Draco to half-heartedly play with his big castle-set while also sneaking glances at them as if he thought he was being subtle. "Start talking…" he said briskly, eyeing Orion as if he was the mastermind of whatever this was supposed to be.

Orion quickly did.

"Well, sir... it, eh, it started like this..."

The worlds stumbling from his lips like a waterfall.

"And, well, D- Viscaria fell over and started screaming..."

Mr Malfoy's face paled.

"...And, then Draco and I, Mr Malfoy, played-"

Mr Malfoy looked angry. "…First, Arthur Weasley manages to win more rights for the insipid Werewolves. Then, the Blacks..." Orion winced. "...are being a bother!" he sneered, before pausing and rubbing his temple. "You're telling me that Mrs Malfoy's friends saw this, Orion…? Answer me!"

Orion nodded hastily. "Mrs Winikus, Mrs Mustaq-Shafiq and Mrs Greengrass…" he said, and the blond man practically groaned at the last name. "Mrs Berrow just dropped off Darius, then went for a business thing." Mr Malfoy nodded curtly. "Daphne, Darius and Irfan were here too - Nerys couldn't make it because she was ill-"

The room flashed glowing green.

Mrs Malfoy practically stumbled out of the fireplace at brake neck speed.

She looked distraught, looking around wildly like a lioness who'd lost sight of her cub. A small smile appeared when her eyes caught Orion, fine and well – then, it vanished, as she looked around again. "Where's Draco…?" she asked, looking guilty.

Orion opened his mouth to respond.

"Playing with his toys, Narcissa," Mr Malfoy said, waving his hand. "How is she…?" Mrs Malfoy pausing, opening her mouth before closing it, as she took a step back with her forehead creasing. "Naricissa…?" He put his hands on her shoulder, looking worried. "Is she alright?!" he snapped, beginning to shake her a little.

Mrs Malfoy looked up at her husband, deep into his eyes. "'I'm fine' – that's what she told me," she said, stepping back and shaking her head. "…The strangest thing… when she said, I felt like I was talking to myself – the way she said…"

"What do you mean?" Mr Malfoy asked, his patience wearing. "She's fine?"

The blond witch took a shaky breath. "That's what we've been telling her; telling ourselves. But, that's not true – we're just ignoring the problem, pretending it isn't there, p-pretending we haven't been changed." She shook her head. "Viscaria knows what a child shouldn't have to – that not even your home, your parents, can protect you against everything."

Mr Malfoy looked away. "We'll protect her."

"Because we haven't failed before," she laughed, a laugh as richly bitter and sour as the bite of lemons. Mr Malfoy had nothing to say to that. "…Orion…" Orion's snapped to attention. "Get Draco – we'll all see how Viscaria is doing; they've set up a bed for her, and they'll be doing some tests…"

"Tests…?" Mr Malfoy echoed, looking troubled. Then, it became angry. "Those damn healers. They had one job, and they couldn't even do that, even after months and months of waiting," he snarled, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists in frustration.

"Maybe if you hadn't bullied them into releasing her so early," Mrs Malfoy hissed, looking at him with watery eyes.

Mr Malfoy looked shocked, as if she had slapped him out of nowhere. "Oh, because you're not to blame, of course," he hissed. "It's not like you'd been telling me for months how they'd mistreated her – and, how you had to bribe them just so they didn't treat her like a mangy hound."

Mrs Malfoy looked like she was ready to burst into tears. She turned away, quickly, and began to stride towards the fireplace. "I'm getting back to Viscaria – bring the children along, Lucius," she said, coldly, as she disappeared in roaring, green flames.

"What are you doing, loitering about…?" Mr Malfoy sneered, making Orion shrink back. "Get Draco – and, tell him to wrap up warm; hospitals are ghastly cold this time of year."

Orion did as he was bid.

* * *

Viscaria lay in a hospital bed, sleeping soundly with light breaths.

Orion was sitting on one of the visitor chairs beside the bed, alone. Mr Malfoy and Mrs Malfoy were conferring with the Healers somewhere outside in the hall, judging by the echoes of their voices. It didn't seem pleasant – it had started off amiable, but had given away to a lot of hissing and shouting.

He wondered how Draco was fairing with all the adults going off around him.

Sighing in boredom (which may have seemed bad, but it felt it had been hours), his eyes began to look around for something to pass the time and distract him.

His eye caught the newspaper and magazine racks which were awkwardly fixed to the thickly-painted white wall.

_Witch Weekly?_ Nope!

Maybe, Seeker Weekly would be good...? His eyes strained trying to make out more the newspapers' texts.

**'ARTHWARTLY CITY: 37 YEARS ON**

**_By Alessa Fenetre,_**

_Thirty-seven years ago, the Wizarding World was in crisis. The Minister for Magic Wilhelmina Tuft (1948-1959) passed the New Metropolis Initiative, which for the first time in the Ministry of Magic's history created a city purely for magical inhabitants...'_

Then, a headline caught his eye and made his blood turn cold. One of the newspapers read in daringly bold text: **"BLACK AND MALFOY ABDUCTION: WHO DID IT?"**

His eyes widened as he hesitantly pushed himself up from his chair, stare transfixed. After a moment, he took a step and then another, feeling almost like he was floating. He barely comprehended when his fingers touched the brittle parchment. It looked old, then again, most things did after staying too long in this place.

Blinking, he began to read with trepidation...

**'BLACK AND MALFOY ABDUCTION: WHO DID IT?**

**By Andy Smudgley,**

_On the 28th October, 1986, the Wizarding World shook as the heir to the House of Black, Orion Black, and the daughter of Hogwarts Board of Governor's chairman, Lucius Malfoy…'_

Orion blinked.

Oh, so that was what Mr Malfoy did.

_'...suffered an unsuccessful abduction by at least two assailants. It has been confirmed by Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Bones, that one of these assailants was Walden McNair, who had died while committing the crime. Documentation of his post-mortem examination are being kept confidential as the investigation is on-going.'_

So, that was one of their names.

Walden McNair...

The name was harsh even on his tongue. Who was this person, exactly? Why had he done this to them? He wished the newspaper had a picture of the man – maybe then, he'd recognise him or something.

_'It is still unclear if this crime was perpetuated by a larger group or if it was just the two assailants involved. "Perhaps, these madmen could have been acting alone," suggested fellow Board of Governors member, Madam Parangyo, when sidetracked in an interview about the Educational Safety Legislation #143._

_However, a reportedly close friend to the Malfoys, __Diana Greengrass...'_

'Close' was such a strong word.

_'...had this to say about the tragedy. "A group effort, of course. The Malfoys spend a ridiculous amount of money on security charms, warding, and whatnot, don't they?" Although, for the "life of her", Mrs Greengrass claimed she "[couldn't] understand why anyone would target children," but said "there must have been a motive, mustn't there?"_

_A member of Orion's blood family, Cassiopeia Black…'_

His eyes widened.

He doubted this would be pretty.

_'...had this to say in an interview with with Witch Weekly earlier this week, "I believe there's a lot of questions the Malfoys need to answer. A 'no comment' won't cut it – I ask, are Orion or Viscaria or Draco really safe under their care when they can't even keep what appear to be common thugs out?"_

_Ms Black isn't the only Black who has critiques for the Malfoy's. Her brother, Pollux Black, said, "[the incident] pulls into question whether or not the Malfoys are good citizens, let alone guardians. If they've got enemies, why do they have enemies that would go so terribly far?", claiming "It raises questions I think deserve to be answered."_

_However, Lady Malfoy has fired backed. "It's unfortunate business, but I believe the Blacks have no right to question the guardianship of my son and his wife," she said __in an interview with the Daily Prophet's very own Betty Braithwaite.__ "Let's not forget how many Blacks are in Azkaban, dead or crazy or both. I tell you, Narcissa is the only good apple in that family - and, she and my upstanding son will certainly raise Viscaria, Draco and Orion right despite this unfortunate event"._

_Orion Black is the son of the infamous, mass-murdering Sirius Black…_

He felt a prickling on his neck.

Viscaria was looking dead at him, sitting on her bed.

"…So, that was his name…" Viscaria said quietly, glancing at the paper in his hands. Her voice was both empty and something else. She gave a hum, looked out the window to a darkening sky.

He glanced towards the door, before scooting forward in his chair. "Are you all right?" he asked, unsure exactly why he was whispering.

She gave him a blank look, before smiling reassuringly. "I'm fine," she said, but Orion didn't feel that placated. "…What? Worried about me, Orion? Aw!" she laughed, her smile bright and the room seemed a little less colder.

Orion rolled his eyes, snorting. "Well, you did kind of fall over and have a… a fit," he said, folding his arms and almost crushing the newspaper in his hands in the process.

"I did, didn't I?" she said thoughtfully, her smile becoming colder. She paused for a moment, before her smile brightened again. "You know? I never really liked Darius – he's a little mean, isn't he? And, then he did this to me…"

"Darius didn't mean to do it on purpose…" Orion defended, shaking his head.

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," Viscaria said almost sarcastically, gazing up at the ceiling. "…Yeah, I see you point. But…" Her eyes slid to him with a smug look. "He has to say he's sorry next time I see him, Orion."

He rubbed the back of his head. "I'll let him know…"

She gave him a look.

"…Viscaria?" Mrs Malfoy voice came, making them both stiffen. She was standing in the doorway, the relief that was flooding her face like an explosion. She practically rushed over to them, just stopping herself short from crushing her daughter with her embrace. "You're okay, right? How do you feel?"

Orion carefully dropped the newspaper to the floor and kicked it underneath his chair.

Viscaria stiffened at the contact, looking unsure for a moment. "I'm fine… mum," she said, not meeting her mother's eye. "…Just had an unpleasant memory… that's all it was, mum. I didn't sleep much last night, is all..." She blushed, embarrassed. "I was being silly… I'm fine."

Mrs Malfoy sat down on the hospital chair next Orion's, not very convinced. "You're not fine, Viscaria, but you will be," she stated, looking at her with imploringly blue eyes. "You weren't being silly, Viscaria. You've been hurt by what happened, and we're here to help – so, just tell us what exactly happened so we can."

Viscaria took a breath, pausing for a moment. "It's just… I've been fine for the most part, mum. Saint Mungo's really helped me think, put things in order – it's just that something reminded me of what happened today, and I… remembered something…" Viscaria breathed, looking away. "Something terrible."

"…What?" Mr Malfoy asked, striding into the room and looking quite troubled. "What did you see?"

Mrs Malfoy scowled. "Let her answer on her own time, Lucius. Don't rush her," she snapped, giving him a disapproving look. She then turned to Orion with a much kinder one "Orion, would you please wait in Visitor's Tearoom with Draco and Lady Malfoy, please."

Orion nodded without question, quickly standing up and leaving the room.

"I wasn't rushing her," Mr Malfoy said coldly, gritting his teeth.

That was the last thing he heard before he was out of ear-shot. It annoyed him to be dismissed like that – he needed to know what was happening with Viscaria, with the Blacks, with the Malfoys, with the abduction, but no one ever told him anything - but, it wasn't like he could do anything about it.

He knew he should be grateful what they'd already given him

But, he wanted more.

He wanted to know the truth and he wasn't going to get that anytime soon.

It was times like this that he wished Mrs Galster was back – yet, Mrs Galster had gone when Orion had got back from his long, extended stay at Saint Mungo's. She'd found work for a better-paying client back in Germany, Mr Malfoy had said. And, Orion found that really upsetting since Mrs Galster was one of the few people Orion, despite himself, could tell anything to.

She'd always have something nice to say.

But, she was gone and now there was nobody.

Not even Mrs Malfoy. He didn't want to be another bout of gossip for her friends.

He cursed himself as he sat down in the tearoom on some rickety blue chair, shaking his head as he tried to tune out Draco demanding sweets. Why had he done as Mr and Mrs Malfoy had said? Why hadn't he just listened at the door? Taken the risk and actually learned something instead of always being kept out of the loop.

"You look downcast, Orion," Lady Malfoy said, snapping Orion from his thoughts and making him blush red. "Chin up, I'm sure Viscaria will be fine…"

He felt a stab of guilt.

Here he was complaining when Viscaria was in a hospital bed.

"Of course, she will," he said with a smile even someone as stupid as him wouldn't believe (Lady Malfoy looked like she certainly didn't), before half-heartedly picking a magazine on from the rack.

_**Witch Holiday? Magazine**_?

Yeah, he definitely needed one of those.

* * *

**14th July, 1987**

* * *

Viscaria had returned after a few days of bedrest.

It took Orion a day more to bulk up the will to ask her about what had been going on. He cornered her in the garden by an oak tree.

She had smiled. "You're going to have to be a little more specific. They asked many things and I just had to lied to get them off my back," she said quite smugly. "It was easy. No wonder mummy and daddy do it so often."

"What do you mean?" he said, surprised and confused.

She grinned, quite proud of herself. "I've been lying to my Healers for months. Not that it matters since I'm fine, but they're really picky. I just had to learn to say the right things and they'd just leave it at that. Progress." She whistled.

He felt a pit in his stomach.

"…You've been lying to the Healers?" He was unsure how to take this.

The Healers were annoying and the one's he'd encountered weren't great at their jobs, but even he knew they were there to help people. They were misguided, especially with him, but Viscaria certainly seemed like she needed all the kinds of help in the world so far.

Her grin was fixed. "I have," she admitted, resting a hand on her chest and taking a bow. "As I said, it was easy..." She paused. "...After a little bit of practice, that is. The women were the hardest, I don't know why," she said.

He looked at her pleadingly. "But, why…? They were trying to help you."

She blinked, before sneering. "Because I could and they're idiots." She kicked a mound of grass. "What's got into you? They were idiots, remember?" She looked accusingly. "You said so. Don't pretend you didn't!" He remained silent. "Oh Merlin, really? You actually..." She shook her head, smirking. "You can be so stu-"

Orion gritted his teeth."You looked like a foolish idiot when you fell down that day." She glared at him in warning. "I still don't get why you're not back in Saint Mungo's after what happened. What troll dung did you tell your mum and dad to escape place... that's what it was, because you belong there?" he sneered, feeling anger rising to the surface.

She looked like she'd been struck, steadying herself on the tree. "...There's nothing wrong with me, Orion," she stated firmly, before her lip curled. "…There's something, though, isn't there…? Something wrong with you. Have you figured it out? Are you guilty?" she teased.

He gave her a confused look. "Guilty about what?"

"Oh, you know... self-delusion is the enemy," she recited, lifting her nose in the air like Healer Arncliffe would. "'Guilty' that you're the reason the kidnapping attempt happened in the first place? You didn't forget, did you?" She was curious.

"W-What!?" Orion blurted, the word catching in his throat.

Viscaria opened her mouth to reply, but closed it, giving him a strange look. "Nothing, Orion. I was joking, I was joking before and I'm joking now," she said casually after pausing for a moment.

He opened his mouth.

She just turned around and began to walk away, leaving a stock-still Orion behind.

"W-Where you are you going?" he said, taking a step forward.

She just left. He didn't understand.

The Vox Magi had kidnapped them… well, it wasn't because of him. She'd probably just said that because she was being spiteful, and that was it. He knew that it had been a hard time for her...

Her sharp tongue, it was a defense.

Still, he felt himself shaken as he made his way back to his room. Maybe if he slept the day away, the next one would end up better? But, if he felt he'd had a nasty shock there, there was a piece of paper perched on his bed, folded like a bird.

His hands moved towards it... he paused an inch from it.

Maybe, he...?

Orion swallowed, feeling his skin pale as he picked it up and read.

_Long time, no see._

_Do you want to meet?_

_V._

Orion stared.

He reread the words.

There was a strange feeling well up in his gut. His hands ripped it up before it could even destroy itself, watching as the pieces shriveled black. He didn't trust anyone, not even some coward that went by 'V'.

Everyone just wanted something him. Either hurt or use him or often both.

His grandmother…

He always thought about her, didn't he? He just get her out of his mind – it was almost like she wasn't even there. Maybe she was, in a way. It almost felt like she was – always watching over him, always telling him what to do, always waiting for the exact moment to pop out and tell him what to do.

It had been easy, easier at Saint Mungo's, it had even been easier at 12 Grimmauld Place in a way.

It was wrong of him.

It was ungrateful of him, wasn't it?

He ruined everything, didn't he?

But, he wanted out of this family – all of this. He didn't really understand it all – he just wanted to go. Go on holiday to Spain like Darius and live there... No, travel the world and go to all those places the adults kept mentioning where nobody knew him and he knew nobody.

He was sick of this stupid place.

This stupid, boring, unchanging manor he was in; with a family that never changed. Their stupid rules and, boy, he was tired of rules. His grandmother had had so many rules – and, the Malfoys may not have had as many, but still enough to make him want to bash his head against something.

Merlin, it almost made him want to pack his bags and go back to Saint Mungo's.

Maybe, Kai and he could set fire to the 'Happy Room'?

"Wouldn't that be something," he muttered to himself, thinking sadly of his friend.

Then, Orion shook himself out of it.

No, he was wrong… he was wrong to think that. To think he deserved better, nobody deserved anything - and, without the Malfoy's kindness he'd be Merlin knows where. He owed them too much to complain, and he'd didn't even have right to since Viscaria was suffering the most at the moment.

Orion began to chuckle, his head pounding.

He couldn't take it anymore.

He let out a harsh laugh, sniggering and shaking his head. And, do you know what had upset him the more? He didn't care – not as much as he should. Viscaria got to play the disturbed, good-girl victim act and everyone believed her, but Orion knew what she really was – what she seemed to forget was that he was there.

It was just swinging there – it was obviously planned, obviously staged, it was a little ploy of revenge against that Mathilda-girl. Viscaria must have known how precious that ugly 'rat' was to Mathilda. Yet, he didn't remember her shedding a tear when Mathilda had nearly killed herself.

No.

He stopped himself short.

He shouldn't say that.

Still, she was a good person... He couldn't hate her.

Ever since he stepped into this place, Viscaria had been kind to him for the most part – and, he should be grateful. Even if people still laughed at him for the doll fiasco – as if Viscaria couldn't have told him it was a girl's game, but he supposed she did like teasing him a lot.

But, was it really just teasing and banter...?

Kai had been different...

There was a sharp rap at his bedroom door, breaking him away from his wallowing. Looking up, he found Mr Malfoy striding into his room without any warning, and he didn't look too pleased.

"Orion, I hear you've been upsetting Viscaria," Mr Malfoy drawled, his voice practically oozing that slimy, oily coldness that grated on Orion's nerves to no end.

Orion stiffened.

Maybe he could hate her?

"I-I-I…"

* * *

**A.N: Ugh, exams are painful and I've got tons of revision this month! Anyway, hope you liked reading this chapter while I kill myself with exam prep.**


	12. Chapter 11: Poison Quill

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Chapter 11: Poison Quill**

* * *

**14th July, 1987**

* * *

He'd lied.

_"So, you were pressuring her...?"_

That was his mistake, Viscaria's threat be damned. Although, perhaps telling the truth to a prideful man like Mr Malfoy would be equally a bad choice.

_"No... I-I... it's just that..." _

Mr Malfoy's trusted cane swung down over, hitting his bare buttocks. He was sure there'd be a red mark, he'd felt it. The pain was unbearable, there was nothing worse, nothing he could remember being worse.

_"...You've been bullying my daughter?"_

_"N-No! Mr Malfoy-""_

There was another one, harder than the last. _It hurt! _The pain was sharp and stinging, it felt it would never end. _Please! _He looked back pleadingly, but Mr Malfoy hardly looked phased as he readied another stroke.

Another strike. Dispassionate.

Orion hissed, sucking in the pain through his teeth.

All these years and Viscaria was proven right again. Mr Malfoy never liked him, just tolerated him and it was no more clear than it was now. The wizard looked at him like a burden more and more, the blame in his eyes.

Viscaria was right. She was the precious, fragile girl.

It made him hate her more.

"Please..." His voice cracked, tears streaking his face.

Mr Malfoy gave him a calm look, before whacking him sharply two more times on buttocks, making him yelp.

"...I trust you'll watch your step. Leave."

It was dismissive. Clipped.

Orion pulled up his trousers, stumbling out.

* * *

She shouldn't get away with it. She would.

Despite this, the next time he saw Viscaria she would pay somehow. He hadn't deserve this, each spasm of pain reminded him of this as he lay on his bed. His face was buried in his pillow, the material caught between gritted his teeth, turning it wet with not only tears but saliva. If he were to look in the mirror, he'd see a mess, a boy with a face as red as a tomato, tears, sweat and saliva mixing on his face.

He'd get her for this.

There was a shuffle of feet.

He whipped his head to find the very girl he hated standing by his door. "I hope you've learned your lesson," she said flatly, but he could not mistake the glee in her eyes. The bloody bitch.

He scrambled to a sitting position, wincing at the pain. "Why?" His lips moved without his permission.

Every bone in his body wanted to snap at her and clenching fists wanted to strangle her, but he thought better of it - there was something telling him reacting outright would make it even worse. Mr Malfoy would believe his daughter anytime over Orion, who was just a ward and not one he particularity liked.

"...You know. I didn't even think it'd work, really," Viscaria boasted. Orion couldn't help but throw her a dirty look, but he managed to remain tight-lipped. "Then again. I'm his daughter, after all, and you're a whatever-you-are-thing..." She grinned like it was a big joke.

"I noticed," Orion replied simply, giving her a withering look.

Honestly, what was wrong with her? The answer was everything. As for the reason why, he didn't know and he was caring less day by day.

She folded her arms, tapping her 'thoughtful' finger against her chin. "Don't be like that. You deserved it," she said, her grey eyes seemed quite smug. "You think you can say all those mean things to me like that and get away with it." She smirked. "Keep dreaming."

"Right... I didn't know were so sensitive," he practically spat.

"I'm not sensitive," she hissed through gritted teeth, glaring at him like she want to hurt him.

Oh, she hated being mocked. Funny, considering how she mocked everyone else, but when it came to her it was like stepping on a rocky cliff-side. She couldn't take it, she couldn't take a lot of things and she was weak because of it.

He raised his hands in 'surrender'. "I'll be more thoughtful with my words in future next time, sorry," he said, giving her a tight, polite smile. "I was in the wrong. I should never have said such terrible things. Merlin knows you deserve them," he added very quickly, stifling a smirk.

"What?" Viscaria snapped, eyes flashing.

He raised an eyebrow. "Merlin knows you don't deserve them, Viscaria. Those mean things I said, remember?" Orion said, looking at the Malfoy brat solemnly. "I was in the wrong."

She looked at him blankly. "You think you're funny, don't you?" She turned on her feet and walked back into the hallway.

He pushed himself up, ignoring the aches as he followed her, not letting her go that easy. "I'm not joking. Mr Malfoy really let me see the light..." Orion said - and, honestly, it was all he could do not to burst out laughing at her face. "Thank you for setting him on me like you did. I owe you one," he added, beginning to walk away.

_Not so smug now, Viscaria._

"If you don't stop messing around, I'll tell dad that you hit me," she hissed, grabbing his shoulder roughly and making him stop. "You wouldn't like that, would you?"

"You know, I was afraid of him once," Orion said honestly, feeling a little bored with riling her up. "Your father scared me... once."

"And, he doesn't now?" She looked him over. "You sure look the opposite," the blonde girl snorted.

Orion rubbed his face, the skin rough from his tears. "No, he doesn't, not really."

She looked at him in disbelief. "What?" she said slowly.

"He doesn't scare me. I hate what he did... what you did..." He glared her, making her frown. "But... my grandmother was much more. She's crueler than he'll ever be. When I looked at my grandmother, it felt like she could do anything to me and not lose any sleep. I look at Mr Malfoy and it's not the same, he has places even he won't go," he said.

"Looks like she did since you're still alive," Viscaria said smartly.

Orion felt a little unsure about what he was saying, but he felt strength in the memory so he held onto it tight.. "Death, dying, everyone does it. My grandmother did more, she made me feel like I could just... disappear." He felt himself shudder.

She looked at him, really looked, then she burst out with a harsh laugh. "That doesn't make sense. You'd never disappear." she said, shaking her head. "You'd always be found. Your grandmother isn't smart enough not leave a piece behind." Orion looked at her dryly. "Are you sure _you_ shouldn't be back at Saint Mungo's? Surely, they could find out why you're so stupid."

He smile ruefully. "Why am I talking to you? You're too stupid to understand, even after everything."

Her face broke into a snarl. "Don't you dare call me-!"

Orion was tired of it, he was tired of her face and her nastiness. "What I'd do to make you hate me like this?" he yelled right in her face, absolutely tired of all this troll-crap. His spit hit her cheek, enraging her as well.

She looked revolted, hastily wiping it off. "You're utterly gross!"

All instinct telling him otherwise, he stepped closer, almost smiling when realised he was taller than her a little now. "What did I really do, Viscaria? You blame me. I get it. You hate me. Why?"He snapped, resisting the urge to shove. "The way you're acting! It's like you think I did something. Tell me what I did? Tell how I supposedly hurt you so much?" he sneered. "Why are you so angry and hateful?"

Viscaria looked at him, finally silent and there was a sullen look in her face. "I don't know why I'm so angry," she said quietly. "I don't know if it's the failed kidnapping, Saint Mungo's. I don't bloody know."

"Viscaria?"

Her brow was scrunched up so much it looked painful. "I just can't pinpoint it, Orion. Everything's pressing down on me, my head, squeezing and _squeezing_. It... it..." She broke off, clenching her teeth and letting out a hissing noise.

"What is it, Viscaria?" She gave him a wary look. "Please, you can trust me," he looked at her pleadingly, feeling the desperate earnestness sloshing in his stomach, trying to a leap for his throat.

She stared him for a long time. "It hurts..." she said finally. "Orion... my head, everything, it hurts so much." As she said this, tears of frustration and anger made themselves know at the corner of her eyes.

He swallowed dryly. "Why?"

She scowled. "I told you. I don't know... Or, maybe I do...?" There was wonderment alight in her face.

"Viscaria?" It was all he could say.

"Do I know? Am I lying to myself? Am I angry because of you, my parent, or the Vox Magi, or Saint Mungo's, or something else?" The questions spewed from her mouth like a runaway broom. "Am I lying to myself right now or am I just lying to you, pretending to be confused because that's just who I am?" she kept asking, less to him and more to herself.

"Viscaria. You're not making any sense," he managed to say, staring at her in confusion.

It was the wrong thing to say because her eyes instantly frosted over. "Of course. Why don't you do me a favour and leave me alone?" She turned up her nose and swiftly just left him there alone, before Orion could even recover.

He just stood there, baffled.

It was almost like he could hear faint sobbing and then nothing.

* * *

Ah, typical.

The little beasts had made him late.

Frankly, he hated children.

Lucius frowned at the thought, shaking his head in resignation. He only hated the little beasts sometimes. It was strange, this feeling he had weighing him down. That Black heir was insufferable. He'd thought the boy would be a useful piece on the board, but instead he was more trouble than he was worth.

Seeing that child in his manor. Seeing the bits of Sirius Black and _that witch_ was difficult, it was partly why he may have become perhaps a tad overzealous with the corporal punishment.

_The brat._

He shook his head, stepping out of the Atrium.

He was practically bombarded by Higgs and Matlock about what Cassiopeia Black - the gossip-mongering bitch, the walking scandal that controls scandals and outright bitch - was running her mouth about for the front pages of Witch Weekly and the Wizarding World News. Thankfully, the Daily Prophet hadn't picked up it, but he'd always figured Barnabas Cuffe had a soft spot for him.

Meanwhile, not so thankfully, her brother Arcturus was proving even more intolerable...

"Don't I normally head the education policies?" Lucius drawled, making sure his impassive mask kept as he raised a careful eyebrow.

Mr Murton was practically sweating in his uniformal grey robes with a black, notched collar and Lucius was sure there was probably a certain liquid dribbling down the man's dress-trousers and pooling in dragon-hide boots. "Uh, heh, um... yes... the Minister for Magic, herself, has personally asked that Madam Parangyo head the Hogwart's Board of Governors on the delicate Board's Reformative Legislation. She has had much more experience with this... type of approach, and will be able to add weight to the bill."

Damn it all.

He'd spent months having it drafted and re-drafted to the point he'd had his secretary and the other members of the Boards tired to the point there were bags under their puffy eyes. He couldn't let it just slip away like this, not even with Arcturus' obvious meddling.

He massaged his temple, already feeling a headache coming on. Why, it was that family team up, wasn't it? Cassiopeia would slander them in the face of the papers and Arcturus would undermine him at his own work.

Narcissa's family hoped to send him to an early grave.

Ah, Narcissa... A smile curled on his lips. They'd had their differences, especially where Orion was concerned, but they both agreed on one imperative thing: the immediate threat. The Black family's actions were deplorable to say the least and Narcissa, who had been quite hurt and shocked by them, gravely agreed with him that they needed to be taken care of.

He snorted.

Still, it had taken her long enough.

The Blacks needed to be if not outright decimated, put so hard in their place they're ancestors would feel it. And, funny as it was and despite how much damage Orion had inadvertently caused, it seemed like he could be the Malfoys' trump card in this battle of wills...

The thought almost had him burst out laughing, but he wouldn't make the mistake of laughing too soon. It was a bit of a shot in the dark, really, but if it worked then he'd be making a small donation of a hundred galleons to the Daily Prophet as one of their old articles about the Magical Restrictions - **Is Improper Improper? -** had peaked his interest and made him do some homework.

After battling through his co-workers, he was finally at his office.

The office was quite colourless. His black, velvet-lined desk had gracefully-carved, twisting legs curving down to the marble - a desk Lucius made sure was kept very neat and orderly; fitting for a professional like him. The chairs surrounding it were standard issue, quite ornate and fairly comfortable, but nothing to brag about. He'd managed to slip a elaborate, decorative carpet near the door to lighten the office up a little at least.

And, after a personal reprimand from him, the Magical Maintenance Department was behaving so the large window behind his desk was no longer displaying a volcanic fallout or a hurricane but a sunny, clear day.

Yes, the slight with the Blacks could be dealt with later-

The prim knock made him smile.

"Come in..." Lucius beckoned and the door opened.

She was rather short and squat. Her mousy-brown hair was tied up by ribbon, with only a thick curl free to coil on her forehead. Most strikingly, besides the fact she was rather decrepit and toad-ish in the face, was the pink! The pink tweed jacket and frilly, pink scarf-collar; the pink, long skirt; the dark pink shoes with lavender pink bows. The eyesore of her!

"Madam Umbridge, a pleasure," he drawled curtly.

Sitting down across from him, a smile stretched her pink lips as if she'd ever stopped smiling to begin with. "A pleasure as always, Lucius," she giggled, her voice like honey, grains of sugar, like a box of sweeties had been mashed together into one and forced down your throat. "Now, I'm not one to beat around the bush..." She let out a silvery laugh; if Lucius were a lesser wizard he would have flinched. "...But, I'm a teensy bit curious why I am here...? I'm very busy."

He almost snorted.

_As if she didn't know._

He began to idly shuffle through his documents. "The same reason you came. We both know we could be very beneficial to each other, _Madam_." He slid the document across the table and leaning back in his chair with ease. "Open it..." A smile curled on his face. "I think you'll find it quite... enlightening."

She gave him a bemused smile, slowly reaching for the document as if it might bite her, before she almost snatched the piece of parchment and began reading it greedily. "...This is _very, very_ interesting." She looked thoughtful for a moment, before her unconvincing smile seemed to shine brighter. "...Quite. How valuable do you think it is?" she said.

He smirked, not even hiding his satisfaction. "Do you want some tea, Madam?"

"Oh yes. I'm frankly parched," she said, waving her hand in agreement. "To say the least, I've been running back and forth all day." She let out a terribly fake, girlish laugh.

He nodded, raising his hand and a House-Elf. "Get us two cups of tea," he commanded it, arching a slightly-amused eyebrow at Umbridge. "...Sugar?"

"How did you know?" She giggled and smiled, disgustingly sweeter still. "Yes, thank you. I'd quite like it..." As soon as she turned to the elf in an instant her big eyes were cold and Lucius wouldn't be surprised if the thing melted the way it was shaking. "Five spoonfuls of sugar, Elf," she said and her voice had almost, very nearly, lost that sweet tone for a moment.

The Elf nodded, bowing deeper, before disappearing with a cracking sound.

"I hate those things," he said and it wasn't as if it was a lie - although, it was more apt to say that House-Elves were so pathetically, infinitesimally small that he hardly even needed to half-notice them except when giving an order. "Like having steaming pile of trash right near you, if only for a moment."

She nodded eagerly. "...It's a necessary evil. Unfortunate we have to suffer the things... they put my right off my tea nearly every time," she said.

He nodded in agreement. "And, this one seems to be waiting till Christmas to return. Useless beasts-" The Elf reappeared with another irritating crack, placing the silver tray on the table with two flower-painted, steaming teacups on matching saucers. "Took you long enough. You deserve a whipping." The Elf shook like a leaf. "Dismissed."

The Elf disappeared in an instant.

She sighed as the Elf disappeared. "They get worse every year from what I've noticed," she said, diligently took the teacup he'd raised for her. "Thank you..." She raised to her lips and took a long sip. "It seems like they get any half-potty trained Elf off the street these days. Not like when I first started - of course, we can blame the namby-pamby M.C.W movement for this and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for the slack..."

"And, the Minister for Magic," he said slyly, his lip curling.

She paused, taking another sip of her tea, before grinning. "Yes... Bagnold's quite weak," she said, almost with a gleeful delight. "Instead of battening down the hatches, she lets all the ingrates in for tea and biscuits, completely oblivious to how they're trashing this very country." She shook her head. "For such a bookish Ravenclaw, I'd have expected at least some respect for tradition."

"I feel that way as well," he drawled, taking a sip of his tea. "What a coincidence..."

"What a coincidence, indeed," she replied, setting her teacup back on her saucer and with her free hand gesturing to the document he'd given. "So, I take it this isn't just about me passing the Werewolf Registration Commission and you providing the dirt on my opponents to do so." She smiled sweetly at him. She took another sip of her tea. "Hmm... I take it you want something, Lucius? Just to warn you, I have limits - even with a pack of juicy secrets like that."

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Yes, I do, actually," he said, steepling his finger and giving her an appraising look. "As you've very likely heard, I haven't been having a good few months."

"Oh, really, dear. That's a shame..." Umbridge simpered, taking a sip of her tea.

"Yes, it is," he drawled and really it was getting harder to hide his irritation at this ridiculous witch. "I think we could do well together. You see, I've having a problem with the Blacks, and this is quite damaging to my future plans."

If Umbridge was curious about what he meant about 'future plans', she didn't say anything but smiled sweetly as if he was speaking quaintly. "How's a person like me help? I'm just the respected Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office, nothing more, aren't I?" she asked kindly, taking another sip of his tea - and, it all made his eye twitch a little.

"And, you want to be more?" She simply gave him a sweet, non-committal smile in return to his question. "I could make that happen, you know. I have... friends." He let the words sink in. "You do, don't you?"

"I suppose everyone likes a promotion," she said thoughtfully.

He kept dangling the bone. "I can make that happen. I know people, and I can easily get you into their favour."

Umbridge giggled, her voice was so high-pitch it grated on his nerves. "So, the gift-wrapped, blackmail material for me was just a pretense - the bait - Lucius?" she asked, quirking a well-plucked eyebrow and spreading the wrinkles around her face with a peppy, bright and girlish grin. "Right...?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "A token of a bargain well-struck."

"Is it?"

"What?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

Her smile widened, creasing her almost toad-like face. "Is it 'well-struck'? I don't even know what you're really proposing."

He smiled at the pink woman. "You will. I think you'll find it... quite agreeable. Before I open doors for you. Your current position is exactly why I want you at the moment. Correct me if I'm terribly wrong, but when an underage child is around an adult using magic... doesn't a red light flicker in your office?"

"Only if the dwelling is located in or near a Muggle neighbourhood..." She sipped her tea lightly. "Why? Most of its just a trivial precaution, anyhow, considering we're only notified if it's picked up by some Muggle..." She winkled her nose. "...or, if it's underage magic in a Muggle area. Not like we could prove who cast it in a magical household anyway, however."

"Ah, yes, trace isn't that specific." His smile was forced, leaning forward, and it was to which she nodded. "And the records?"

She gave him a bemused look. "Ah, well, mostly just shuffled away. They are automatically recorded by the quill in the archives room. You know this of course, don't you?"

He nodded. "I've heard some things."

"Hem, I hope." Her laugh was silvery. "It's private, but not exactly... the most sacred secret in the Ministry, even if it slips everyone's minds frequently... What exactly has you so interested in the records...?"

"Sorry, another question. Do you check the archives, the records, the quill makes?"

His questioned seemed to irritated her a little. "No, they rarely goes checked unless, as I said, its recorded as a underage participant or witnessed by a Muggle," she said, her sweet as sugar voice dropping a little as she looked at him with an bemused expression. "You're asking many questions. When will you arrive at the point, exactly, Mr Malfoy?"

This seemed to be turning out rather well.

"One last question and I'll explain all," Lucius drawled, raising a finger brightly. He could hardly contain his trepidation. "Does it always record the spell? The exact spell, every time, without fail...?"

Umbridge paused, taking a sip of her tea. "Yes... and no."

"What do you mean, exactly?" he asked, deflating a little.

Hopefully, this wouldn't be a wrench in his gambit.

"Known spells to world, those will appear. Unknown are a little more tricky - still, I can guarantee that documentation will give an indication whether or not the magic is dark..." she trailed off, looking thoughtful. "Good Merl... what are you up to, Lucius?" she asked, her girlish tone coming back full force.

"Orion Black is a child," Lucius said, smiling. "He was around Walburga Black for years."

Her eyes widened and she gaped like a fish. "And, if Walburga Black, a respected, if unorthodox, member of society and the Black family, had cast dark magic around a child... scandal!" she said, her voice growing even more high-pitched as the realisation slammed into her. She leaned forward, whispering to him. "How could we not realise?"

"That would be another chip in the Blacks' armour, wouldn't it? Poor Walburga Black. I'm confident a woman like that couldn't stop herself from doing dark magic every once and a while," he said.

She chuckled, giving him a smug look. "Why should I help you do this to the Blacks? What would I gain from diving into the paperwork...?" she asked him, quirking an eyebrow. "Helping me with some legislation won't cut it if I make enemies with one of the most powerful families in the world."

"Formerly one of the most 'powerful'," Lucius corrected with a smirk. "This isn't the 1960s anymore. Besides, I'm giving you not just the dirt on your rivals if you help me, but position and power as well. You know how easily a Malfoy can get that for someone." She listened, intently. "With the Blacks in the way, I can't do as much as I'd like and I want to. Help me remove them and you'll get your reward."

Umbridge paused. "...And, what if I went to the Blacks about this and they offered me an even better deal?" Her voice was dangerously sweet.

"You're not going to the Blacks or else you wouldn't have said that to me..." Lucius said confidently, making her grin and that grin slid right off her face due to his following words. "You know that the Blacks have a limit to how powerful a half-blood can get in their books, especially one whose father mopped floors," he finished pointedly.

If one would blind, they'd miss how she turned very cold. "I don't have clue about whatever you're talking about," she said, her jarringly voice quite clipped and lacking any of its usual sugary tones. "Now, as I have told you, I am a very busy woman. I think I ought to get back to my duties, Mr Malfoy." She made a move to stand up, only barely taller than the chair she was sitting on.

He raised his hands in placation, choosing his words very carefully. "Regardless. The godfather of my son is a half-blood and he loathes Muggles, Mudbloods and beasts. I have the piece of mind to see... how well certain people rise far above the tragedies in their background."

She was thoughtful for a few moments. "I'll see what I can do," she said, a smile curling on her lips as she rose from her chair and raised an expectant hand for a handshake. "I have to admit, it's quite pleasant to meet someone who lives up to their reputation for once."

Lucius smirked, shaking her hand.

Today was turning out better than he thought.

Now, with that hopefully sorted, he needed to do a few extra things.

* * *

First impressions were vital.

Narcissa basked in the warmth of the flickering fireplace, sipping her tea.

She'd spent hours preparing for this. No hair was out of place. Her silver dress was most darling, the red belt which very much suited her. Her makeup was softer, a respectable minimum.

She looked like a kind mother... which she was.

She'd chosen the lounge. It was pretty; its narvy sofa and chairs in matching flowery patterns, the dark mahogany of the bookshelves lining a fair few the walls. Vases and ornaments soaked in history shown off everywhere.

...If only the stubborn portraits could looked welcoming. She really felt obliged to throwing them all out. maybe replace them with abstract art that she was becoming increasingly fond of.

"Will Mr Malfoy be long, Narcissa?"

The question brought her back to reality. "I'm sure he's just running late," she replied absently, glancing at the grandfather clock.

Ms Skeeter's thickly red lips quirked into a cat-like grin. "Is he often this busy, Narcissa?" Her voice had a gratingly snappish quality to it. "Oh... I can call you Narcissa, right, dear?" She said as an afterthought, patting her bright blonde, elaborately curled hair as if it'd make her more endearing.

Despite her better judgement, Narcissa nodded.

While Skeeter had a strong chin and beady eyes, she compensated with her bombastic style. The gaudy green jacket, its puffy, black-furred collar nearly smothering her thin face. Her green skirt was long and swishing; the glittery emerald shoes almost alighting the floor they were standing on. If only she didn't have the most ghastly taste in jewelry...

At least her manicure was divine.

Mr Smugdley took a gulp of his tea. "Well, we can start without him if you want, Mrs Malfoy..." He was cautious, polite and a stark contrast to Skeeter'. It was an odd pair, Skeeter in her bombastic style and Mr Smudgley in a dragon-hide trenchcoat and a yellow fedora, his greying temples peaking through. "We understand Mr Malfoy is a very busy man. We're willing to compensate."

Narcissa frowned a little.

Oh, it was just typical for Lucius to forget something like this. Of course, when it was work he deemed truly vital, he was up and at them, but when it came to something she thought would be the best way to help the family he seemed much less enthusiastic... almost sabotaging"I suppose we better had. He's probably been held up," she said with a wide, sparkling smile to conceal her troubles. "...I suppose it's better if we start now instead of dragging it out."

Skeeter's mouth twisted in a charming grin, all her bright, shark-like teeth on display. "...So, what are your feelings about kidnapping? Everyone's dying to know. Not to mention my avid readers. Please tell!" the journalist said brightly, her floating Quick-Quote quill floating at the ready to write on her floating notepad. "Who do you think it is, Narcissa? Who... in fact... tried the nab the kiddies?"

Narcissa felt a little taken aback.

This one was being a little too forward for her liking.

"What my fellow reporter is trying to say is: are there any leads you are at liberty to discuss with us, please, Mrs Malfoy?" he rephrased, giving Narcissa an apologetic look and ever seeming the more polite of the pair.

"Ah, yes, Mr Smudgley. Ones I'm sure you've heard before, unfortunately. It's suspected that a group called the Vox Magi wanted to kidnap our dear children for blackmail purposes, but I cannot confirm this," Narcissa said, nodding gravely. "My husband is in a very esteemed position in the Ministry, he's a hard-worker and I'm very proud of him. However, I believe someone wanted to kidnap our children in an attempt blackmail him."

"Into doing what?" Skeeter said eagerly, smiling like a cat ready for its salmon.

Narcissa pursed her lips, discreetly looking Skeeter up and down. "I wouldn't know, Ms Skeeter. Nor would he," she denied firmly, shaking her head.

Skeeter quirked an eyebrow. "Wouldn't he?"

"Rita..." Mr Smudgley began, warningly.

"I wasn't talking to you, Andy. I was talking to Narcissa... now, wasn't I?" Skeeter said, rather bluntly - well, Narcissa wasn't sure if blunt was the exact word. "Sorry..." She threw Narcissa an apologetic look as if her partner had been the wrong one. "You were saying, dear?"

Narcissa almost wanted to snap she wasn't saying anything, but instead she smiled widely. "Neither my husband nor I have any ties to this Vox Magi group or whatever they're called. We believe that Orion and Viscaria were kidnapped for the purposes of leverage," she repeated firmly, giving them a confident look.

"And, how do you feel about the repercussions of the attempted abduction?" Mr Smudgley said, taking a bit out a biscuit and almost getting crumbs on the table (which he seemed very sheepish about),while his notepad and pen continued to write.

"I'm devastated..." Narcissa replied, letting a long breath. "I think: how could this happen to us, to them? They're just children and someone tried to abduct them take them away to Merlin knows where." She gripped the hem of her skirt tighter; her nightmares would fill in the blanks for that last bit until she died. "I-I can't help but think what if - what if - all the time... Thank Merlin, Lucius was there. He stopped them in time..."

"I see..." Skeeter said, giving as sympathetic look. She then frowned, pondering something. "Can we see the kiddies? Little Orion and Viscaria could even take a picture..."

"This is a private interview. Mrs Malfoy expressively forbid cameras, Rita," he reminded, shaking his head at her. "...Besides, we don't even have a photographer on hand."

The blonde journalist pouted, giving Narcissa an imploring look. "Can we, please? It'll help the story if we add cute faces to the names, Narcissa," she said, crossing her legs as she stared down Narcissa. "I know my way around a camera, believe it or not. Worked as intern at a Photographer business in Diagon Alley when I was a kid." She grinned. "I know how to do professional for a newspaper, darling. I'm not just a pretty face."

Not much of one, she wasn't.

Hmm... what to do? Narcissa pondered this.

She wasn't quite okay with showcasing her children after their ordeal. The first answer on the tip of her tongue was 'no'. Yet, she hesitated; if she said 'no', she may very easily get on the bad side of Ms Skeeter, who was becoming quite a budding notoriety in the papers for her sharp-tongue, and that could be very problematic if she was co-writing this vital news feature.

The smiling, little, innocent faces of her children already made her want to cry. Perhaps, adding faces to the story would make a stronger impact? Much stronger than a wall of text and some dated photograph they might scrounge up from their archives.

Narcissa decided to delay for a bit. "We'll have to wait until my husband comes back. I think he should be part of the discussion, don't you agree?" she said politely, arching an almost challenging eyebrow. "I wouldn't want to go behind his back, Ms Skeeter, Mr Smudgley. I'm sure you can understand that."

Skeeter seemed to be ready to say more, despite Mr Smudgley's just short of deadly glare, but managed to hold her tongue at the very last moment. "...Very well. I understand. Can't keep daddy out the loop, can't we?" She let out a laugh, shaking her head. "...Well. I'd like to ask you another question while we wait."

"Go on..." Narcissa said, nodding curtly.

"The Black family has been making quite the scene... you've heard right?" Skeeter began slowly, a smile curling on her lips. Narcissa stiffly nodded, she'd been expecting this. "Since you're a Black by birth, how do you feel about their words in the paper, Narcissa? What's your opinion and position?"

Ah, here's where it really began.

Now, it was time to tell the world which side she was really on.

And, Blacks beware, they'd forced her hand with their horrible actions towards her family. She pitied them.

Hand-picked truths and lies were easy to tell and like nearly all Slytherin's Narcissa had a talent for it. "I find the actions of the Blacks deplorable," she said quite honestly. "...They're using this unfortunate situation, using my children... who've been hurt and disturbed by the incident, all for their own gains."

The journalists looked both surprised and rather delighted at her bluntness.

Mr Smudgley gave her a curious look. "Do you think any of their claims hold any water?" His fountain pen scraped against paper much faster than it had before.

Narcissa looked them directly in the eyes. "They claim... that our security was somehow foolishly insufficient. That we were negligent in their protection, especially Orion... That assumption is ridiculous. Pure slander. Much expense was made in assuring those wards would serve us very well; they've stood for many decades and we even had them checked frequently. We're in the process of suing Warding &amp; Co, as I'm sure you've heard, for _their_ negligence. We've even switched providers and ramped up security even more so this past year so there isn't another incident."

"...You said that the Blacks were using Orion Black's and your daughter's situation for gain? What do they hope to gain?" Mr Smudgley asked, smiling softly as he sipped some of his tea from his cup before placing it back on the holster.

"The details are unclear, but they seemed furious when they were judged unfit guardians for Orion, I believe," Narcissa said, ponderously tapping her chin. "We invited them to dinner once, to make bridges as they say, but they were not happy." She gave a shaky laugh. "Merlin, that dinner was a disaster. It became so bad that the Blacks just up and left half-way through."

Skeeter paused, her furious quill leaving her behind. "Bitter grudges, hmm?"

"They claim we're unfit parents, unfit guardians. We are not... and, I think to myself: how they can say such awful things?" She gave a look of melancholy at the betrayal. "I will divulge this: the Black family is hardly stellar on the parenting front and they seem to forget I know that first-hand."

"What are you saying...?" Skeeter asked, her mouth agape in a vicious, surprised grin and an eager glint almost taking up her whole, moss green eyes.

Narcissa took a breath, closing her eyes for a moment, as she carefully looked Skeeter in the face. "I believe that my aunt Walburga Black mistreated Orion," she said, earning surprised looks from them both. "I also have a feeling that..." She paused, dramatically. "Well...hmm..." She pursed her lips, and Rita bristled impatiently. "No, no... I really shouldn't say..."

Mr Smudgley frowned. "It's o-"

Skeeter bristled with irritation, then snapped out like a hound's bark. "No, you should say! The truth comes out eventually, honey - I can tell you that as a reporter for a long time. So, let it be on your terms!" she said, a sweet lift to her voice and her eyes glittering. "Please, Narcissa - tell us and have your say."

Well, Narcissa had to admit the woman had a way with words. Not that she wasn't going to tell them anyway, regardless.

"I'm not completely sure, but I think Arcturus knew of the abuse. Orion told me that Arcturus had come around to visit him a few times... and I know Arcturus. He must have know!" she claimed, almost cursing herself for her overly-dramatic delivery, but the reporters didn't seem to mind. "...I've been talking to Orion for months. At first I wasn't so sure of this, as he didn't really like to talk about his childhood before he came here..." She let out a sad sigh. "...But, recently, he's began to open up a lot..."

The reporters looked quite pleased.

And, it wasn't even over yet...

* * *

**A.N: It's my birthday today, so I felt I'd leave you a little something early. Please review. As for these questions about Viscaria, all will be revealed!**

**Update: Kept having to tweak that Orion and Viscaria scene, just didn't satisfy me.**


	13. Chapter 12: Honey Strings

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 12: ****Honey Strings**

* * *

**16th July, 1987**

* * *

She had killed someone...

She remembered it clearly.

_Arms grabbing her from behind._

_The scream that never left her throat..._

_...There was a silver glint. She knew what she was doing. _

_She grabbed the hairpin from the dresser and shoved it right through his neck... __the ornate silver sliding through. The engraved diamonds tearing at the flesh bit by bit and the red pooling around her..._

She dreamed of a girl that night. Blonde ponytail. Eyes buried by a fringe. White and red nightgown. Bunny slippers dripping red on the floor. It was definitely her and she might even believe that if it weren't for the blonde girl's smile.

That wasn't her smile. Her smile was a shark trying to desperately disguise itself. Reinvent itself again and again and again for no reason than because it could.

She'd step away.

It'd step forward.

She'd step back.

It'd step forward.

It could be a dance, it was like clockwork, like her grandfather's pocketwatch. Always too in sync, ticking away. She didn't scream, didn't speak and didn't run away, just was. The girl was just her and without her all that was left was a broken clock, a dead pocketwatch. But, when did clock hands meet? That was the question and wasn't going to get the answer lying on the green grass, looking up at the sky.

If she was a bird, could she flit, flit away? Away from everyone, everything?

She chuckled.

If she was a bird, she would be as heavy as could be. She wouldn't be able to just fly away from anyone, not even Orion.

Orion...

"Hello, Orion."

* * *

Orion glared at Viscaria.

She thought she was so great. You just had to Look at her, sprawled out in the sun and smiling like some smug house-cat! Now, he knew that he shouldn't let her get to him like this, but she was such a brat.

"Are you going you going to stop staring?" she said airily.

He scowled but found himself sitting down next to her on the grass despite his reservations. Even if he was angry with her right now, he wanted to talk to her - perhaps, what he hated most was that he wanted to talk to her even if she treated him like crap - and, that made him hate her more.

If only she would talk, he only wanted that. She understood what they'd been through and he wanted to hear it in her own words. It was driving him so crazy to point he almost felt like ripping his hair out...

He frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting, Orion," she said matter-of-factly, and Orion very nearly almost thought he'd found the real, old Viscaria for a moment.

He rolled his eyes. "You know what I meant."

"Thinking about about things," she said vaguely.

"What things?" he replied suspiciously.

She smiled warningly. "Press to hard and you'll hurt yourself."

"I'm no stranger to that. Just tell," he said, gritting his teeth. She remained silent, looking away. "Tell me. Tell me now!" he demanded, his face hardening as he looked at her insufferable face.

"It's all you. You're the reason everything went wrong." She looked back at him. "You're dangerous. My parents didn't argue like they hated each other until you came. I had a better relationship with my brother until you came. I was safe until you came, don't even try to deny because you _know_ even if you can't face it," she said, a rueful smile curling on her lip.

"I-I don't know," Orion said, barely able to get the truth out with all the hits slamming into him.

She narrowed her eyes. "You know."

He looked at her, not even noticing his hand beginning to shake. "No, I don't. Tell me. I don't know what you're talking about," he said firmly, pressing his lip into a firm line and giving her a cool look.

"Come on. I can't be the only one who realised they're targeting you... everyone knows," she said, giving him an incredulous look. "What? Did they tell you? Haven't you seen it in their faces? It's all your fault."

Orion's eyes prickled. "You always blame me..."

"Ever wondered if people blame you for a reason?" Viscaria said coolly. He clenched his fists around a wad of grass, silently fuming as he roughly picking them from the earth. It was more to stop himself; like the grass would wrap around his fingers and knuckles, binding them. "Nothing to say... _O-ri-on_?" she pressed.

There was a wetness on his cheeks. "It's always me, isn't it!?" He looked at her with all the loathing he could muster. "I tried, I tried to be nice to you, Viscaria. I tried to help you - but, y-your-your - I fucking hate you!"

Yes, he shouldn't say bad it, but she deserved it.

Viscaria blinked.

Lowering her head, slowly bunching up her knees, the cocoon was completed by wrapping hers arms around herself. He heard a sharp intake of breath and felt a prickle of guilt in his stomach.

She let out a breathy giggle.

She let out another, then another, until she was laughing hysterically at him. She let out a harsher laugh. "Y-You, hah ha hah ha hah... you..." She almost seemed like she was choking on the laughter. "Hah, how-how, ha ha, long, ha ha, hav- have you, ha ha, been h-holding-?" she broke off, succumbing to full on laughter

"What are you doing...?" He furrowed his brow.

"...heh, hah, heh..."

It grated on his ears, she knew he hated it. "...Stop it," he demanded gruffly, taking a step towards her. "Stop it!" She ignored him, keeping going. "Ugh, just stop laughing, Viscaria!"

"...heh, hah, heh, heh..."

He felt anger beginning to bubble. "Shut up! Shhuuuttt uuuup-!" But, she just laughed and laughed.

Before he knew it, his hand swung and collided with Viscaria's face with a resounding smack.

The world seemed to slow, just like that.

It was a moment, much longer than eternity. Those shocked grey eyes looking at him. _Stop it. _They looked at him like they'd never seen him before. _Stop it. _Like he was a stranger.

He shuddered, wiping his tears away and looking at anything but her.

After everything, this would be it. Viscaria wouldn't let him get away with this. She'd go running to her father or mother or whoever; he'd be kicked out for hurting their precious daughter, putting her in danger again.

"You hit me..." she said, surprised.

"...I suppose I did..." he said blankly, his hand twitching.

Since he was done for anyway, maybe he should just hit her again? It felt almost good to do something that had shocked her dumb for once...

There was rage swirling in those eyes and behind that rage... what? He could have sworn it was something almost appraising... no... yes... wait, Merlin, was she slightly impressed underneath it all?

"You're not suppose to hit me," Viscaria hissed, and she may have been glaring coldly at him but her lips couldn't quite help curling into a vicious, almost grin.

"You deserved it. But, no, I'm not supposed to," Orion said gruffly. He wouldn't cower in front of her, however much she tried to put him off-balance - or, whatever she was trying to do. "...Your father or mother should have."

She gritted her teeth. "You think so...?"

"I know so," Orion said smartly. "You'll understand now."

Normally he'd be hesitant, but the retort slid off his tongue with ease. He almost felt light-headed, like he'd had an epiphany. It made sense, his grandmother made sense. He understood. The Malfoys may not be able to control their daughter, but Walburga would have...

"Oh, really?" the blonde girl said softly, putting a hand to her chest.

He nodded, giving her a confident look. "The reason you're being like this. Your dad needs to punish you. I should tell him about how you're lying to him like you are."

"Hah," she laughed, abrupt and harsh. "As if he'd believe you..."

It was true, but Orion had a really good idea.

"Okay, maybe he will, Viscaria," he said with a toothy grin. "But, it's funny... wouldn't it be funny that every next time you say something, he'll think: 'no, she's not lying, my little girl... but, could she?', 'is she?' He'll eventually catch onto you..." He felt a swell of bitterness, but he swallowed it enough to meet her glared full-force with a smirk. "...And, can you imagine what he'd do to you then? I can..."

She sneered at him. "He'll beat you, first."

He looked dryly at her. "My grandmother hits harder than Mr Malfoy, Viscaria. I think I'll live."

"You don't know what dad can do to you," she said smugly. "You got off easy last time. It could have been a lot worse..." And, that's when her sadistic smile came back full force. "I'm going to laugh, afterwards. Everyone is."

Orion gave her a look. "I'll live..."

"Barely," she whispered, her eye twitching.

"I'll live," Orion repeated, giving her a blank look. "Will you, Viscaria? Because, it's gonna hurt like a bitch."

Viscaria let out a gasp, shocked at his language. "You swore... again," she said, wrinkling her nose as if she was smelling something bad. She gave him a admonishing (and he couldn't tell if it was mocking or not) look. "You're not suppose to do that."

He stared at her, pressing his lips in a thin line.

Really?

That was all she cared about?

"You're right. I'll stop swearing," Orion said flatly. "It's a bad habit. Picked it up from Saint Mungo's..." Viscaria stiffened at the name. "...Oh, you remember that place, don't you, Viscaria?" He narrow his eyes and smiled darkly, a sliver of smugness running through his head as she clenched her fists and looked away. "...You remember, right? The good times-"

Viscaria had a vacant look. "What if break my arm? When I tell him it was you, do you think he'll hit harder than even your grandmother could have then...?" A smiled curled on her lips at his shock expression.

He was afraid. "Viscaria..."

She smiled innocently. "What?"

Viscaria was joking, she was just joking. "Stop trying to distract me. You know forgetting things on purpose is weakness." It was almost like his grandmother had grasp his vocal cords and made them her own for a moment. "Do you want to be strong like a grown up, Viscaria? Grown ups never forget at least the smart ones, and they remember and do what is necessary when the time is right."

"That makes no sense. Grown ups forget all the time." She staring at him like he was an outstanding idiot. "Heh," she snorted. "My father even forgot my birthday once. What a day."

"Maybe, he didn't...?" Orion said slowly.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, ha ha. Very funny."

Orion very nearly smiled. That was Viscaria, right there. Smug, ridiculous, arrogant, bratty and teasing. This was the Viscaria he met all that time ago. It was the girl who laughed, teased and complained.

Lost in thought, Orion didn't even realise they'd lapsed into silence.

Viscaria was silent, almost like a stone wall. As if thinking... and then, bit-by-bit, she smiled at him. It almost tricked him. It almost made him smile back. But then he felt a chill run down his spine...

"Orion, I had a thought..."

She saw right through him.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy looked at the witch before him, masking his distaste.

Umbridge smiled, smug as a cat.

This was too good, and that was saying something.

"This is too easy," he said more to himself, staring at the list in awe as his eyes flickered to and from each word. "Is this all of it?" He looked at her appraisingly. She nodded at him, seemingly quite pleased with herself. "All of it?" She paused, sighing before passing him a scroll she'd hidden in her coat pocket. "...Merlin, even that's a bit much, isn't it?"

"What do you plan to do with it?" the pink witch asked, arching an eyebrow.

He smirked at her, gesturing for her to sit down on a chair as he sat at his desk. "First question, why did you keep that second record?" he drawled, giving her a smirk as he leisurely leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped together.

She popped a few more teaspoons of sugar in her tea. "...It seemed the most damning. The first one contains scandalous contents and is enough to make a, ah, quite a big stain with a few dubious curses here and there... But, the Second record I had is quite a bit more damning with how less severe it is, Lucius. It's the unfortunate implications that are the most damaging - there's a pattern of her using memory charms, but why? Who would be worth so much to her that'd she'd have to change their minds like that?"

"You've got a story?" Lucius said, smiling as he sipped his tea.

She took a sip of her tea, her smile sweetening at the taste. "One you've already thought of... It's not hard to spin. Walburga Black was abusive to Orion Black. You'd just need to get Orion to speak out, and provide part of this evidence to consolidate the claim so it doesn't look like you're leading him. Then, keep the more dangerous part as blackmail material against the Blacks for leverage, and with the Ministry Official stamps and markers, no one would doubt you."

He smirked. "Lucky. It was all still there."

"Lucky. Seven years ago Arcturus asked me to destroy the records."

"But, you didn't?" Lucius asked, arching a surprised eyebrow.

Umbridge paused. "Only because I trust you." Her smile became even sweeter, if possible, giving him a wink that almost made him turn green. "I think it's wonderfully nice when someone thinks they owe you a favour, even when it isn't exactly true." There was an expectant, greedy glint in her eyes. "Of course..." She pressed a pink fingernail to her mouth, thoughtfully. "...That shouldn't give you any ideas, especially concerning little me."

He almost barked.

She would be even more useful out of the gutter, and he couldn't pass up that opportunity.

"Of course not. I'm a very rare type of person. I can afford to pay my debts," Lucius replied, briskly, as he took another long sip of his tea. "I think I should be more worried about you, than you me."

"Paranoia isn't healthy. I've done my part, Lucius," she said, looking at him through narrowed eyes. "And, you will do yours, correct...?" He gave a nod, as she sip her tea without her eyes leaving him for a moment. "Good... I'd be absolutely inconsolable if I suddenly found you were trying to trick me." She stood up, placing her saucer and the teacup on the desk.

"I'm sure anyone in your position would," Lucius said, growing rather bored of drabble.

She grinned. "Good evening."

When she was as far as the door, he spoke. "Does anyone really buy that act?"

"What act?" she said, smiling in bemusement, before she left. As soon as the door clicked, Lucius' smile dropped and he let out a sigh.

The pink woman was rather ridiculous, had a lacklustre grasp of fashion, had cat pictures littering her office walls and tried desperately to sound like some sweet, little grandma who'd break out the knitting and hand you a poison cookie. It would be political murder to publicly ally with her at this point - you weren't allowed to be that eccentric until you'd earn it, especially in the Ministry.

Still, despite her stupidity, she had her uses. And, since she didn't know the meaning of when to be subtle it was rather easy to read her. She wanted power and he'd give it to her. Fortunately, she'd be so blinded by how big the chair to see what was really going on.

_Knock._

_Knock._

His door was rapped twice. He knew who it was before it even opened.

"You've been so busy you've missed the interview," Narcissa said swiftly striding through the door in a very thick, green coat that had a curling pomegranate pattern - all of which hugged her figure in all the right places, if he did say so himself.

"I did?" he asked half-heartedly.

She almost slammed the door behind her. "You do realise how this will look? How can I convince the public that we're a perfectly happy family when you can't lay off work for one moment to unite with us in these difficult times?" Lucius winced at her words. "I had to take the photograph for the Daily Prophet without you. Unfortunately I'm not a widow, so people expect you to be there for us."

"I have-" he tried to excuse.

She gave him a hard stare. "People expect more. You're distant father routine isn't working for our image."

"I'm not a distant father..." he said, frowning.

She slammed her hands on his desk, startling him. "Well, when I open up the Daily Prophet paper on Monday, it will certainly look like it on the front page," she retorted.

"Then, why don't you just use an old photo where we were all together?" he drawled, giving her an irritated look.

"People do not want a photo from two years ago. They've been smothered for months in that. People want 'now'. That picture will double the sales of the newspaper; they'll profit off the haunted eyes of this family and when they do, they will think: how could the Blacks exploit such a respectable family...?" She was emphatic, her eyes wild and her mouth snarling.

"Narcissa?"

She ignored him. "...And, then _'Oh wait, it says here that the Blacks are abusive monsters - poor child'_!" She threw her hands in the air. "I've done all this for you, for my children, for this family - all I need is your support for once!"

"But-"

"'But, I do support you, Narcissa'. Right?" she chuckled, leaning over the desk and looking him in the eye. "Then, be there for me. Help me..." She gave him an imploring look. "Don't undermine me. Come home once in a while - what has it been? Days? With you popping in once a while to sleep in our bed like some cheap hotel in Knockturn Alley."

His lip curled. "Well, I have been busy..."

"With what? How am I supposed to be understanding when I don't know," his wife said, touching his shoulder, the softness of the action not to be mistaken for sentiment. "Tell me now," she commanded, every argument to the contrary made useless.

He sighed. "Fine. A dear friend..." She gave him an expectant look. "...Umbridge. She has provided me sufficient material which will help our family gain the upper hand over the Blacks." He smirked, quite smug indeed and it glowed in his face. "Records of Walburga's less than respectable spellwork, courtesy of the Improper Magic department."

"Ah..." She frowned. "Any spellwork around Orion ought to be have been detected and automatically registered as he's underage... correct?" she said, thoughtfully stroking her chin.

"Yes, it's mostly never checked just self-documented by the Record Quill. Only the trace registers Muggles..." He wrinkled his nose. "...Is when an actual person is alerted." He smirked. "Walburga was careless. And, Arcturus failed to sweep this under the rugs."

She pursed her lips. "And, what if it hadn't revealed anything? What was your plan then?"

He tilted his head. "You know, I'm not into those 'what could have been?' moments. I figured and I took a leap - it is Walburga Black, after all," Lucius drawled, leaning back in his chair. "Even if they'd have tampered with the records, I could have had it tested by an Unspeakable and they would have surely found something."

"And, you trust this Umbridge woman?" she said, arching an inquisitive eyebrow.

He gave her a dry look. "It's not about trust, just security. I know what she wants and I can give it to her. Umbridge is moderately clever enough to know she's picking the winning side." He chuckled. "...The Blacks are dying. Especially with the Black heir in our hands, ready to play." There was a flicker of sadness in her eyes. "Who wants to support a house like the Blacks, even with their money. They're shut-ins acting like it's still the 1930s and when they say jump everyone will."

"This sounds all very brilliant, Lucius," she remarked.

"Of course," he agreed.

She rolled her eyes/ "But, you've forgotten one thing. One little thing in this grandiose plan and it will trip you up if you ignore it further." She looked quite displeased. "If we let our reputation get tarnished, who is to say we won't be the second to lose? The Blacks have made the Child Acquisition Office start asking questions; your distraction is just a distraction it will not keep them at bay. We will be scrutinised, judged and we'll go the way of them-"

"What do you suggest?" he interrupted, his stomach sinking.

Narcissa sighed, giving him a dour look. "What I've been saying all this time. Whenever I say we need to pose as a recovery, happy family for the cameras or put on a show for the papers, you will set aside the time to do so..." She smiled quite passive-aggressively. "Won't you, darling?"

He paused. "...I suppose I'll make time," he said finally, sinking a little in his chair.

She softened. "I don't mean to sound harsh or pedantic. I just... you need to keep in mind all the battlements in a siege, Lucius."

He looked at her dryly. "Ever poetic, Narcissa."

Still, he had to admit she had a point. He shouldn't be so blinded by his grand schemes that the pebbles end up tripping him, that'd be wholly embarrassing.

* * *

**18th July, 1987**

* * *

Orion had said yes that day.

Why had he said that?

He'd said yes, he firmly reminded himself, because perhaps it would make things better. Or, a whole lot worse. It was dangerous with Viscaria - if he could crack open her head, he bet two people would spill out in a puddle. One that hated him beyond belief for a no reason and another that may offer him another chance to make things right with her.

The thing was, was it worth doing wrong?

She was asking him something he knew was wrong, so why was he saying yes to it? He couldn't - or, maybe he could do it - and, he wasn't sure what kind of person he was looking at in the mirror.

But, he was being ridiculous.

It was just a little thing, wasn't it?

Merlin, this might make Viscaria start talking to him again for once - make her finally realise he wasn't against her, which seemed at least to be what she believed. And, even if she may have been lying about the forgiveness thing - he felt impelled to try, as if he could walk away not knowing if it would make things better or worse.

Besides, it was a little thing.

They didn't even need to know it was him.

"Hello Orion!" Darius said, brightly, almost jumping up and down like always. Then, for a moment, he hit a fall as he looked at Viscaria standing just a few paces in a white, summer dress with pink roses imprinted on them, and a somewhat, very almost stone-face if it wasn't for that very slight smile on her face. "...Viscaria..."

"Hello, guys," Nerys said quite happily, although there was some hesitation when she looked at Viscaria. There was no doubt that she'd heard about Viscaria's little fit, and was treading carefully as she could in her ballet shoes. "It's great to see you."

Daphne looked much less enthusiastic, but you couldn't say she was in a too bad mood. "Hello," she said half-heartedly, awkwardly trying to ease a few creases out of her bright pink dress.

There was an awkward pause as everyone's eyes slid to Viscaria.

There was a slight twitch in Viscaria's face, and then the dam broke in a full smile like the flick of switch. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm fine," she chuckled, shaking and giving a charming smile - the most charming smile Orion had ever seen on her face. "It's not like I'm glass."

"But..." Darius trailed off.

Viscaria sighed, shaking her head. "I just don't like being touch. Not since then," she said softly, touching her arms absent-mindedly. She gave them a sad look. "And, I guess I was surprised... not a good combination." She gave a sweet smile, letting a shaky chuckle bubble past her lips.

Orion didn't understand.

How could she be so calm about this?

"So... no touching, I guess," Darius said slowly, putting his hand up. "I'll remember that."

"Would you, please?" She grinned, clasping her hands together, as her lips stretching to show all her pearly teeth. She seemed to tilt her, and he wasn't even sure what for - all he knew was that it was deliberate.

When it came time to play the game, everyone seemed to want to do what Viscaria wanted.

She quite liked that.

Orion snorted.

It was almost like they were grovelling, wasn't it, Viscaria?

First, they play Viscaria's favourite game 'Flower Kingdom'. They got assigned their roles - Orion was a prince, Nerys was a princess ruling one of the gardens (and, Viscaria didn't even make a snide remark about it), Darius was pillaging pirate or thief or assassin or whatever since he tended to switch every ten minues, and Viscaria played a Queen who was courageously fighting for the safety of her kingdom and fighting against the evil High Priestess Daphne (who really failed at cackling!).

And, Viscaria was almost distracted.

So smug that it had gone her way for once.

Of course, that had only last for a while and then Orion began to notice something that he didn't expect.

"...Tell my subjects I'll protect them against the great evil," Viscaria said, and she sounded bored as she lounged on the stone bench they pretended was a throne.

Little by little, she was bored.

Then, as if lightning had struck, a smile slid on her face.

"Viscaria?"

She turned to him, quirking her eyebrow. "I think it's about time, don't you?"

"What?"

"You don't think I sent Darius to Daphne and Nerys down the other side of the garden for no reason at all," she said, giving him a blank look. "I was separating them, idiot. That's how the real game begins."

Orion frowned. "...Viscaria, I-"

"Orion, I'm sure what you're going to say will change my life," Viscaria cut in, her tone dry as chalk. Her mouth was cutting as well, arching up, curling, as she said the words - eyes honed on his face, staring him down through her brow. "The thing is - will I let you be my friend after?" And, it felt like she had just said the right words, and he couldn't help but close him mouth, lips thinning. "Thought so..." she said, with a certain smugness. "Now, you're listening, right...?"

He nodded, as if she didn't know. "Yes."

"You know what I want you to do, right?" she asked, giving him an encouraging smile.

Orion swallowed, nodding. "Yes, you want me to-" he began, before he was interrupted.

"Ah, ah, I'll take your word for it,"she said, waving her hand as her eyes hardened slightly. "Just do it. Please."

Orion sighed, turning around and making his way up the garden. Honestly, it was such a little thing - and, they would even know, probably. Still, it was a little disgusting to do something like this, even if it was nothing major - and, he couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty that he was going to be doing this to his friends. Then again, it's not he should be so nervous - as Viscaria had said, it was just a little revenge for that incident (although, Orion couldn't really see it as entirely their fault) and then it would be done with.

Reaching the table on the veranda, he spotted three pack lunches.

One was blue, and it read Nerys. One was red, and it read Darius. One was green, and it read Orion. One was pink, and it read Viscaria. One was yellow, and it read Daphne. Mrs Malfoy had made the House-Elves make them some, as she would be popping out for a bit.

Viscaria had seen an opportunity, whispering in his ear that this was it.

She said to spit in Nerys, Darius and Daphne's. He spat on Darius' cucumber sandwich, watching the saliva soak into bread and formal a damp patch. Be creative. His tongue liked the bright red strawberries in Nerys' box a little. Be discreet. He spat in Daphne's lemonade, then re-screwed the top back on. Don't overdo it. And, as he rushed back to Viscaria, all he could feel was guilt.

There was a weight in his stomach. He shouldn't have done that.

All Darius, Daphne and Nerys had ever been to him was nice and friendly most of the time - and, he'd done something pretty disgusting just because Viscaria promised that if he proved himself she'd stop being horrible to him and start being his friend - as well as not telling Mr Malfoy how he'd properly whacked her in the face for it, which was also an incentive.

Still, it was wrong.

And, it wasn't exactly a grand plan of revenge, either - but, he supposed Viscaria wanted some satisfaction in just knowing. That was her - she always liked it when she knew something that someone else didn't, like it put her on a golden pedestal and her smile as their friends bit into their food, munching to their hearts content and sipping their drinks.

Darius gobbled up his sandwich without a second thought, his face twist for a moment as if he'd realised something was wrong, before he just went back to munching quite happily like nothing was.

Ugh.

Daphne sipped her lemonade and didn't realise either. The worst thing Orion wasn't even that guilty about her; it made him sick, but something about Daphne made him... he just couldn't stand her and he didn't really know the exact reason.

"Is it just me or do these strawberries taste a little off?" Nerys said, confused as she munch on it thoughtfully.

Viscaria had nearly lost it.

A loose giggle escape her mouth.

They looked at her as she composed herself.

"Merlin, you're so picky, Nerys," Viscaria chuckled, shaking her head like it was a joke. "What? Not up to your standard, princess?"

The brunette girl frowned. "No, they're just weird..." she repeated, absent-mindedly as she munched further on them, lolling them on her tongue as if assessing it. "Just weird... not all bad, just weird."

Orion felt a little green.

That was his saliva, and it was...

Ugh, just ugh.

He felt like he was going to hurl, pressing his lips in a thin line.

"Aren't you hungry, Orion?" Darius said, his mouth full, as he stared at Orion's intact lunch.

Viscaria quirked an eyebrow. "What's the matter, Orion?"

Like she didn't know.

"I'm just not that hungry, guys," Orion replied, raising his arms defensively.

Darius frowned, looking at he thoughtfully. "Can I have your lunch then? Waste not want no, whatever that means at stuff," he asked, his hand sliding over to Orion's lunch box like a serpent in the grass. Orion didn't even have it in him to speak, just nodding. "...Great!" Darius snatched the lunch, already stuffing spoonfuls of the chocolate moose in his mouth within a blink. "Thanks, Orion. You're the best."

Well, that didn't make him feel guilty. No, that didn't make him feel guilty at all. He just nodded weakly, looking away and finding that patch of grass very interesting all of a sudden.

That was how it started though, he may have not liked it but it was little enough that he didn't have to think about it. For a moment, and give him credit, a moment he'd thought that Viscaria would be satisfied with just that - as if that girl could satisfied and move on!

He would soon find out that so-called 'little' thing he had had such trouble with were just the starter...

* * *

**19th July, 1987**

* * *

Her eyes hardened.

The charity event had been going well. The smiles widening, victims of her charm as she happily dropped galleons and galleons into the Charity box, the chinking noise a constant rhythm practically. There was envy is their eyes as well, but it was all for a good cause (whatever the charity was about) and so they had to grin and bear the good fortune she had.

To be fair, her dress - a mass of frozen, dark flowers and leafs - cost probably even more than any of the donations they'd be getting tonight.

The sour point of the evening was seeing her distant cousin, Arcturus Black, who had inconveniently or conveniently been invited to this get-to-do also. . It wasn't like she hadn't expected it, after all she was counting on it, but the emotions actually see his face brought out were not pleasant.

"Oh, good evening, Narcissa. I didn't realise you were coming," the elderly wizard said, his face creasing in a charming smile that didn't suit him.

The corners of her smile made her feel like her skin would crack, and the chill on her spine was unbearable. His eyes were so like her fathers. "Neither did I... if you'll excuse me," she said, putting on a brave face as she turning around, making a show of making her way back to the dance floor.

Maybe, this wasn't such a good idea?

He grabbed her arm, his grip surprisingly forceful for an old man. "I don't excuse you." His grip shook a little, tightening almost painfully, all in what she guessed was suppressed rage.

She smiled coldly at him. "It's an expression."

"Well, here isn't one. I believe it's best if we talked... for old times sake," Arcturus said, his eyes shifting around the ballroom, flashing a charming smile at an older couple wading a little too close, relaxing his grip on her arm.

She ignored the stinging sensation where he'd grabbed her. "I take it this talk isn't optional?" He gave a clipped nod and she took a sip of the steaming drink she'd been nursing all evening. "Or, appropriate in a crowded place...?"

Arcturus gave her a hard look. "That depends entirely on you."

"Let's go to the courtyard then. It's secluded," Narcissa said, swallowing down her nerves.

"Lead the way." Arcturus smiled tightly, mockingly stepping aside and gesturing for her to do so.

Suppressing the desire decapitate him in front of everyone and ruin the party mood, she quietly turned around and began to walk the courtyard on the east-wing of the Parkinson Manor with Arcturus following on behind her like some ghoulish vampire stalking its supposed prey without any concern for its personal space or respect for the fact the 'prey' was restraining her urge to just murder him.

"I have to admit, you'll grown far less mannered than when I last saw you," he posed lightly as if they were going to be talking about the weather.

Stepping into the moonlight of the cobblestone courtyard and pulling her silk cloak around herself to escape the chill, her eyes glancing at the ghastly gargoyles and hedgerows. "Oh, have I."

"Suffice to say, you're mother would be very disappointed," he said disapprovingly, his thick eyebrows quirked somewhat mockingly.

Narcissa smiled, taking a sip of her drink. "But, she's dead, isn't she...? Most of them are these days," she said, arching an eyebrow. If he thought sweet Narcissa wouldn't pull knives, Arcturus was so mistaken she almost pitied him enough to open up a charity in his name. "Careful. It's bad luck to put words in corpse's mouths. Especially when the corpse never liked you that much."

"Shut your mouth, girl," he said calmly, the light pleasure slipping right off the hard face that she wasn't even sure if his Melania loved, replaced by a stony look.

"Now, now - who has lost their manners, now?" Narcissa remarked, undeterred, her lip curling a little.

It was hard to keep her composure.

If she was twenty, she would have smiled at the opportunity to spend time with her cousin, the illusive patriarch of the Black family. But, she was a grown woman with everything to lose and Arcturus but an aged vulture, dangerous in his lacking and his ability to skillfully prey upon the right opportunity, the right weakness without petty remorse.

"You have change," the elderly wizard noted idly.

She gave him a look. "You haven't. Just my perception. But, that's not why you're here. You've come to tell me a lie: that you had nothing to do with the libel in the papers, that Cassiopeia acted without your go-ahead." She smiled. "Arcturus, if I didn't know any better, it's almost like you think I'm an idiot."

"I assure you that Cassiopeia did not have my permission to do what she did," he said stiffly.

"You would say so wouldn't you, Lord Black? Easier to blame the rash, outspoken one that can't avoid the spotlight," Narcissa scoffed, taking a sip of her drink. "Nobody ever notices the poisonous spider... hiding away in the shadows." She wrapped her arms around herself, the feathers of her dress prickling her cold skin. "Your words... another's face. Do you ever get jealous when they're called the monster and not you?"

He narrowed her eyes. "Don't try to be clever."

"I'll stop when you stop. It's embarrassing to you try so hard at something which so easy," Narcissa snapped.

He gave her a dry look. "I didn't know you had a sense of humour."

"Hmm..." She gave him a thoughtful look. "A thought just occurred to me..."

"Stop the presses," Arcturus said, his thin lips turning into a smirk.

She continued, continuing to ignore him. "Where's your wife, Arcturus?" She examined her newly manicured, glinting pumpkin orange nails (what? She thought she'd go a little eccentric for once). "Melania loves these kind of events - yet she isn't here...?" She scrunched up her brow. "Have you stuffed her a box somewhere so you can corner me without any interference?"

"Ignoring your astronomical sense of self-importance. Why would I do that?"

"Because she'd tell you this course of action was 'astronomically' idiotic, perhaps? Then again, I can't vouch if she'd be that intelligent," Narcissa said coldly, her a lip curling at his look of rage. "This conversation is useless. You just don't get that I'm loyal to my family, I love them very much, and you are not my family - you are a crook."

"If you will regret this. The only logical choice you can do is redeem yourself, despite your spite you must acknowledge even this," he said, the tone of certainty in voice unnerving her a little.

"How many times do I have to say 'no' before I make myself clear?" she said, giving him the kindly look as a young Medi-witch would give a senile patient. "You don't control me, Arcturus. My family is what's important to me, not a monster I sadly share blood with because of cruel fate." She decided to be even more daring. "You deserve Azkaban for the things you done..."

"Don't make an enemy of me, Narcissa!" He grabbed her wrist roughly, sneering right into her face, so close she could see the hairs in his crooked nose. "I assure you. I assure you you won't find that very pleasant, nor will your family," he hissed, his eyes full of fury.

"You've already made one of me, Arcturus," she whispered in ear, before wrenching her arm away from him, ignoring the pain of it.

He looked at her for a while, fuming silently. "I see I've wasted my time..." he said, before turning on his heel and practically storming out, but not before casting her a death glare.

Narcissa almost laughed at how quite petulant he was at making that exit.

After a few moments of waiting, she turned to face a cloaked statue, catching of bright yellow and green. "Did you get all that?" she asked.

"Of course, I did." A delicate eyebrow quirked; red lips smirked. "What? Do you think I'm an amateur, sweetie?"

A very pleased Rita Skeeter slid out into view and Narcissa was surprised at how well the brightly-dressed woman could hide. It was almost like she'd been there one moment and then gone the next when she'd looked back. The witch lived for fame and money, a sneaky little parasite skulking about for supper - she would use her, but not underestimate her.

Still, the witch was such a good hider... It was suspicious. She'd keep a closer eye on her.

She couldn't help but picture the look on Arcturus' face.

His arrogance would be his downfall.

* * *

**23rd July, 1987**

* * *

_Smack!_

Mrs Greengrass hand collided with Daphne's poor face, a proper backhand. Her red nails scratching the girl's skin and now there was a swelling bruise on the girl's porcelain skin.

It was deathly silent. Everyone was shocked. Even Viscaria surprised, her eyes blinking, but then there was the delayed upwards curl of her lip and the glint of satisfaction forming in her eyes.

He wanted to punch her.

"Diana!" Mrs Malfoy exclaimed, horrified.

Tears were forming in Daphne's eyes as she stared up at her mother, whose tightening lip and eyes showed the flowerings of regret and anger. It was with, seeing that scene set before, that Orion wanted to tell the truth no matter the consequences...

"If you'll tell, we'll both get in trouble - or only you, if they believe me," Viscaria whispered, satisfied.

It was like she sensed his breaking point, and made him pause with just the right word.

They'd done something even worse this time.

First, it was spitting. Then, it was hiding clothes like shoes. Then, when it had been spreading nasty rumours. But, then Viscaria had asked him to sneak into her mother and father's room and steal the prettiest necklace he could see. He'd given her a sparkling necklace of sapphires and diamonds to Viscaria and she had smiled at him, swiping them from his hand.

_"Leave it to me, Orion."_

The next time he saw that necklace, it was a ghost of itself. Sapphires were missing and so were some diamonds - and, it now looked like something you'd get for a charity stall in Diagon Alley, made by half-hearted hands into some retro, ugly design.

He'd watched as Viscaria slipped it into Daphne's cardigan. Just a small sapphire just glimpsing from the edge, waiting to be discovered; it was when Mrs Greengrass pulled it out like a snake from a box and saw red.

Tears were streaming down Daphne's face, but she quiet and still. She didn't even speak, didn't even try to defend herself at all. It made him wonder: why did Viscaria do this? This wasn't just to embarrass the girl, this was to hurt her.

"Why did you do this?" Orion heard himself whispered.

Viscaria smirked at him as if it was obvious. "She deserved it, Orion."

It was a breath. "Why?"

She smiled at him like one might a dumb puppy. "All she cared about was herself when I was practically convulsing on ground..." She tsked, shaking her head. "...And, that's just not right, isn't it?"

He frowned. "Viscaria-"

"We don't need people like that, Orion. Not one bit."

* * *

**A.N: Here's another one! I didn't realise it was that long until I glanced at the word count - maybe, I got carried away?**


	14. Chapter 13: Party Favours

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 13: Party Favours**

* * *

**24th July, 1987**

* * *

They were throwing another big party that'd land an appraising spot on the next issue of the Daily Prophet with no surprise. There was all this grandeur and it would be a shame for the Malfoys not to it show off - and, get a few more respectable pure-bloods in your pocket.

Although, it was not like Orion didn't like these parties, it was just annoying dressing up and tiring to go through it all.

Even if his striped tie was amazing.

But, Mrs Malfoy had said they had to assure the public they were strong, positive and moving forwards.

So, the ballroom was alive with the chinking of glasses, the hands which held them owner's smiles stretched too wide, the loud chattering and noisy laughter; all only bested by orchestral music that had nearly blown out Orion's eardrum out when it had first started.

Yes, tonight was another success. People were having a great time and Mr Malfoy was shaking more hands than he'd been able to last week. It seemed like a typical, happy occasion for all respectable society to enjoy.

But, everyone wanted something.

The fun turned stale in his mouth. Every gesture was careful, wasn't it? Carefully welcoming, happy and respectful like the staff at Saint Mungo's. The toasts were just there to break the ice. The laughter was mostly exaggerated and could sound gratingly nasal. And, don't get him started on the conversations...

"What the-?"

A glass of mead was knocked over by Mrs Greengrass' elbow and splashed all over Jody Jacknife, an esteemed Quidditch Player for the Holyhead Harpies, who very nearly clocked the woman in the face, only to pause mid-swing and try to brush it off.

"Ah, hah, no harm done, right?" Jacknife said awkwardly as everyone stared.

Mrs Greengrass arched a well-plucked eyebrow. "...Right."

Orion snorted.

Not exactly a subtle save.

Then, Mr Malfoy was chatting to his much more tanned brother, Rasmus, who'd decide to make a surprise visit, strutting in like he was the one throwing the party with his glittering, white suit and red tie, blond, pompadour hair and confident, hazel eyes.

Beside them was Draco and he seemed to be glowing at the fact Mr Malfoy's hand was resting on his shoulder, rather affectionately. And, then he was gaping like a fish as Mr Malfoy kindly told Rasmus to go fuc...

Moving on!

Although, perhaps the oddest grouping was the ever Mrs Zabini who, while nursing her drink, was chatting amiably with the odd, weird Mr Nott.

"You see, the tongue and the velum were completely cut off..."

"All of it? All because she wanted go down all his..."

Moving on, again!

Mrs Malfoy showing off to her friends, her red lips smiling widely, showing her teeth. She wore a glittering, silver gown, a necklace of pearls and sapphire high-heels. Her glossy, blonde hair coiffed and gracefully down to her shoulders.

She certainly had put the effort in because he'd never seen someone look so perfect.

When she had tired of presenting herself, she airily called Viscaria over to present herself and be gushed at for her white dress which was embroidered with pomegranates and golden flowers, and had puffed-out, silk sleeves, that, oh yes, Mrs Malfoy had picked out herself.

"...Why, yes, Phylis! I picked it myself...!"

Orion sighed, shaking his head.

Swerving through the bustling crowds of rich colours, flapping dresses and suave tuxedos and all, he was extra careful to slip by the witches that seemed to like his, supposed, adorableness - some had even tried to pinch his cheeks! They weren't the smoothest ("Sorry, ma'am, I need the loo!"), but they were polite enough not to raise eyebrows.

Breaking from the claustrophobic crowd, Orion found himself in a more secluded area of the ballroom. Sighing, and yes, he'd begun to do that a lot, he sat down on the closest free chair and slumped forward on the table.

It took him a moment to realise another boy had also taken refuge on the same table. A brown-haired, thin boy in a grey tux with a black bow-tie, a fluffy collar and a puffy, mothball of a flower tucked in his lapel, nose-deep in a black book.

Hmm, kind of looked like one of the Travers, maybe...?

After a few moments, it became clear the boy wasn't going to look anytime soon.

Orion frowned.

Deciding he didn't like being ignored, he decided start what would hopefully be a nice, normal conversation with someone his own age which wouldn't end with the greatness of Spain by loudly clearing his throat. Surprised brown eyes behind thick, rectangular glasses looked up.

"Hello, I'm Orion Black," Orion said, shifting in his chair and putting up a smile.

The boy stared at Orion for a moment or two, before placing his book face-down on the polished table. "I... can see that. Damon Gosforth. A pleasure," Gosforth greeted back, holding out his hand, which Orion shook firmly.

From what he could remember from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, any mention of the Gosforth had been less than favourable. Bloodlines tainted by a hidden Mudblood or two, supposedly falsifying blood status on papers, and all other scandals.

Mrs Galster suggested it was likely libel. After all, the young-at-time heiress Cornelia Gosforth had publically snubbed the author's advances to her. Unlike his son, Cantankerous Nott was a thorny person and many witches and wizards had ended up feeling nicked.

Still, the question was, would Mr and Mrs Malfoy approve...?

Well, they had invited them...

"All the pleasure is mine," Orion returned, discreetly looking him up and down. High cheekbones, an aquiline nose, a weak chin and familiar ears that stuck out a little. "...What book were you reading? You seemed pretty interested in it," Orion said, leaning forward in his chair with his smile suddenly renewed. "...Is it any good?"

Like it was some big secret, Damon went shifty-eyed. Slowly turning the book face up, he slide it across the table to Orion. In silvery, wispy letters, the title read 'Seven Devils' and at the bottom it was credited to a Delora Vaisey in smaller, gold print.

There wasn't even an illustration.

"And, this is a good book?" Orion asked politely and half-curiously, also pondering if the buffet still had those cheese-filled cocktail sausages left.

Damon brightened. "Oh, it's, it's, well... a pretty controversial piece," he said, proudly tapping his finger on the spine of it. "It explores the persecution of magical folk during the medieval period through the perspectives of seven, semi-fictitious witches and wizards." Orion nodded slowly. "Very intriguing... if a bit violent... and, well, mature."

"And, you're being so secretive about this, because…?" Orion prompted, vaguely curious.

"Ah... well, I may have taken it without asking... uh... from my mother's personal collection," he said, rubbing the back of his head, abashed. "I mean, well, you see... I've practically read all my books, well, the interesting ones. And, it was just sitting there, on mother's bed." He shrugged his shoulders. "As long as she doesn't find out, it doesn't really matter..."

Little by little, Orion smiled.

* * *

There were a lot of children attending the party. Brought to be shown off, of course. But, even those adults got a little sick of dealing with children for too long. It didn't take long for them to be shuffled out onto the porch and the moonlit garden beyond it, as the adults started having fun without young ears and eyes.

Besides, the elder children would look after the younger ones...

Right.

Anyway, Orion had found himself sledged between Hestia and Flora Carrow on a garden bench. They barely reacted to the small-talk Mrs Malfoy had forced him to practice. Across from them was a girl called Agnes Monkleigh, who had amused him with her fiery spirit and glares at first, but that kind of went stale when you realised there wasn't much beyond that.

It was times like this he missed Kai.

So, deciding to slip away for a bit, he began to look for Viscaria or even Draco.

The damp grass crunching beneath his shoes, he cut across to one of the cobbled paths leading further down the mound, passing Curtis Evercreech, who was knelt on the ground and marring it with his stomach contents, in the process. "Ugh… I-I shouldn't have-ugh-have stuffed myself with the…" Orion heard, before he was out of earshot

Of course, that paled in comparison the chaos he arrived at.

An older boy called Marcus Flint was busy harassing Sebastian Dale and Ernest Macmillan, both of whom were cowering while another girl was furiously insulting Flint back. Although, that fiasco seemed to be coming to a close, as the kill-joy Gemma Farley was currently storming over there to put a stop to the "...disgraceful!" behaviour.

Meanwhile, Holden Ledbury and Imogen Stretton were laughing at Glynis Mexborough pulling a screeching, flailing Nerissa Brody's fair locks, her sharp nails scratching on Mexborough's cheek.

Peregrine Derrick and Cormac McLaggen were in the middle of arguing who was the "bestest" of the "best" at playing Quidditch, while Irfan seemed annoyed to the point Orion wouldn't be surprised if he pulled a punch.

Walking aimlessly into a small courtyard with a large, stone fountain, with intricate carvings of peacocks, flowers, leaves and olive branches on it, in the centre. Orion barely made a glance towards a passing Nerys with a quick 'hello', although she seemed too busy having a one-sided arguing with Daphne to notice.

"...Oh, come on, Daphne, you don't know-"

"...Ugh...!"

Finding nothing of worth in the courtyard, he continuing his search and eventually came across Darius, who was lazing about on the grass with a bunch of sweet wrappers and chocolate bars scattered around him..

"Hey, Darius," he said, waving awkwardly - he still couldn't help but feel guilty about the... thing he did when he looked at his face. "Haven't seen you in a while..."

Darius looked up, grinning and wiping a smudge of chocolate from his mouth. "Hey Orion... I would offer you some Chocolate Cauldrons but I ate them all." Orion rolled his eyes - what a not surprise. "Hey, did you want to hear more about my holiday to Portugal?"

"No. I think I'm good," Orion said dryly.

"You only 'think', you don't 'know'," Darius said teasingly, and Orion groaned a pained groan. "No, no, I'm just kidding... for now. Maybe next time my family goes on holiday, I'll convince dad and mum to take you?"

Orion felt his heart leap with hope because the Berrows' had awesome holidays, only to be crushed by logic. "Yeah, that's nice... except I'm pretty sure after everything that's happened, the Malfoys wouldn't allow it," he said, puffing out a disappointed breath. "They're pretty overprotective now..."

"Which is why you're wondering around this gigantic garden on your own... right?"

Orion snorted. "Only protective when it means I can't have any fun," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "When they're half-drunk and glowing from compliments, they don't give a fuck what I do."

The other boy blinked. "Wow, that's something," he said, his eyes widening at the language. "Never thought I'd hear that from your mouth. Saint Mungo's really that rough...?"

"You'd be surprised. I made friends with a guy who liked to set fire to things and I swear Viscaria tried to stab someone at one point," he laughed, exaggerating a fair little on the latter part.

"A guy who likes to start fires..." Darius said, tilting his head and looking thoughtful. "I'm not sure what to say to that." He grinned toothily. "But, he sounds cool."

Orion rolled his eyes, shaking head. "For some reason, I think you found that actually witty," he said and Darius raised his hands in mock-surrender. "Have you seen Viscaria pass by, by any chance?" he added, getting back on track.

"Uhhh, I did... I think," Darius began, pausing and then grinning. "Yeah, Viscaria. She looked like someone had put bogey-flavour bean in her drink." He pointed to a nearby courtyard that was on a small mound, and somewhat obscured by a thick, undergrowth of shrubbery that surrounded it. "She went there."

"She's probably just bored. Just needs something to mutilate..." Orion said casually, while Darius gave him a look. "Heh, I'm only joking, Darius." He chuckled, the lie smoothly leaving his lips. "My humour's a little odd and dark, that's all...!"

The dark-haired boy nodded slowly. "I'll just have to remember to never let her near my cat... to be safe."

"Probably for the best," Orion said honestly. "Anyway, thanks, I'll see you soon."

"Wait." Darius scrambled on the ground for a moment, before grinning and holding up a Liquorice Wand. "You can have this since your my friend..."

Orion smiled. "Thanks."

"...And, I really hate Liquorice. Tastes like slimy rubber," he continued, slightly ruining it.

Orion shrugged, taking the liquorice wand. "Thanks. See you soon."

"No problem, what are friends for?" Darius said, grinning as he laid back on the grass in his mess. "When I'm feeling up to move, let's do something fun. Bye."

Wading through the flowery undergrowth, which really was due for a bit of a trimming again, he couldn't help but feel a rush of nostalgia. It'd been a long while, but he remembered when he was fresh-faced to the manor and his new family, and how he'd explore the vast gardens and just let his imagination run wild…

Orion was broken from his thoughts by raised voices from nearby.

Scrunching up his brow, he continued forward, almost tripping over an uneven cobblestone.

He found Viscaria sitting on the edge of a fountain, trailing her fingers through the water surface, with her head turned away from him. "Yes, Orion?" she sighed quietly, brushing her face of what had obviously been tears, before turning towards him. "What do you want now?"

Orion didn't ask what she was crying about.

It certainly wasn't a guilty conscience.

Still, she raised a good question: what did he want...? He never really knew.

What he did know was he was going to regret this but not nearly as much as he should. "I'm bored, Viscaria," he said, giving her a look. "I thought we could try to do something entertaining?"

"You're just a hypocrite, aren't you?" She gave him a mirthful look. "You pretend-"

"I'm not. Just have as much sympathy for most of them as I do for you," Orion said casually, grinning as she glared at him. "Come on, it's not like its anything bad like you'd do. If you cross the line, I'll just tell everyone you've been... crying out here."

She blinked. "Is that so...?" She smiled frostily. "Fine... Did you have anything in mind?"

"...I think we'll need Darius."

* * *

The rest of the guests had all left over half-an-hour ago.

Some of them looking a little more "coloured" than before. And, it was sad some of their parents where too drunk to notice or care that some of children looked like a rainbow had thrown up on them.

Honestly, where had Darius got that paint from?

The private, family dinner after the party began and Orion found himself ushered into his seat by a fretting Mrs Malfoy. Soon enough, Viscaria sat to his right and Draco to his left. Wow, and in only a minute - Mrs Malfoy must have been motivated to hunt them all down when they hadn't immediately shown up on the dot.

The table was grandiose as always. Blanketed by a sleek, silver tablecloth. Two candles poised at the centre of the table with ornate, golden stems. Two vases, filled with perfection-incarnated marigolds, lilies and roses to the brim were set apart at each side of the table.

The scent of the flowers was enchanting.

Perfection.

And then, there were the other occupants of the table...

Mr Malfoy and Rasmus Malfoy were sitting next to each-other and neither looked pleased.

Mrs Malfoy was sitting at Mr Malfoy's left, appearing quite content despite her discreet glances toward the ever-silent Lord Malfoy - who was sitting at the head of the table with his flickering, cool eyes. Orion knew absolutely who he was not allowed to offend that

"This looks like surprisingly good spread," Rasmus remarked, leaning back in his chair and appraising the food. Orion almost snorted at the understatement. "Charmingly English. I'm glad to be here."

Mr Malfoy rolled his eyes. "'Charmingly English'. You dash our expectations every time."

"Thank you. I had the Elves slaving for what felt like eternity to get it right," Mrs Malfoy said with a smile that could melt butter, ignoring her husband. "Try the bread, I think you'll like the Italian."

"Thank you, Narcissa... I will..." Rasmus said, almost smirking at the sneer Mr Malfoy sent his way.

After some more polite and terse greetings and the finger bowls aside, Orion was glad to finally tuck in. The food in the ballroom was a fine contender, but the Malfoys naturally saved the best till last for themselves as always and he could just stuff his face for weeks if it wasn't improper.

It had been a calm silence for a while, but then Rasmus spoke. "Well, well, how have you been, Lucius...? We haven't spoken in Merlin knows how long." He diligently sipped his soup, making a face. "Your Prophet recounted in lavish detail how you made a most gracious donation to St. Mungo's. Aren't you charitable...? Yet, too busy skirting scandals to stay in contact with your dearest brother...?"

Mr Malfoy continued to sip his drink, not even glancing at a his brother. "You extended me no such kindness. Why, should I, you?" he drawled, not even attempting to pleasant.

"I sent you a dozen letters," Rasmus said, scowling slightly.

Mr Malfoy churned his drink in his mouth, thoughtfully, before swallowing and releasing a content sigh. "Your owls must have gotten lost," he said, finally. "...I've heard French birds are easily frightened."

"Some of them were English owls... Not that French owls are daft, anyway..." Rasmus said, shaking his head in exasperation. "You're misinformed."

Mr Malfoy set his glass goblet down and started on his lobster. "My bad... oh, I believe you mentioned something about scandal, didn't you?" Mr Malfoy drawled, popping a piece of lobster in his mouth. "Please, I'm a law-abiding and a respected member of the Wizarding community..."

"Lucius..." Mrs Malfoy sighed in exasperation.

"...Any ministry official, court or Auror would tell you no different." Mr Malfoy smiled like a kneazle with a fish. "Why, it's absurd for you to even imply I would desecrate the course of justice. Your faithlessness in your own flesh and blood, your family... appalling."

Rasmus set his spoon down in the bowl, leaving forward in his chair with his fingers steepled. "I would suggest the pantomime, Lucius, for that... performance," he said, primly clapping his hands. "But, I'll play along. We're distrustful acquaintances who just so happen to share a bloodline - if that's family, it's nothing to be proud of."

There was a pause.

"I agree. Would you kindly leave without taking any of my silver?" Mr Malfoy said tightly.

Viscaria snorted, getting a warning glance from her mother.

"Oh stop. Stop it, right now. Neither of you mean that rubbish," Mrs Malfoy said harshly, obviously fed up that her dinner had become some battleground.

"Well, I can't speak for myself, dear, but..." Mr Malfoy paused, his lip curling. "She's right on your account. You see, there's a tiny problem with that speech, Raz. Why'd you send all those letters?" Mr Malfoy said, arching an eyebrow at the lack of response. "Ah, the hypocrite's silence."

Rasmus sneered at his brother. "You never change."

"Ah, your first really compliment of the evening," Mr Malfoy drawled, taking a long sip out of his goblet.

Rasmus paused, glancing away, before taking a light spoonful of his soup. "Elf, this soup is dismal. Too spicy. Too thick. Get me some Bouillabaisse instead," he said, changing to subject. In a matter of moments, the bowl of soup disappeared with a _crack_, a new one appearing in its place a moment later and Rasmus began to tuck in more appreciatively.

Mr Malfoy's eye twitched. "Perhaps your taste-buds have declined after slurping and gobbling up so much trash?"

Lord Malfoy - a person who Orion couldn't really get a grasp on - rolled his eyes at men's display like they were children in a playground. The elderly man soon caught Orion's gaze and raised an amused eyebrow at him, before continuing with his meal as if nothing was happening.

Rasmus leisurely sipped a spoonful of his soup. He looked at ease. But, the slight tightening of his mouth had given away his offense. "Oh, trash? The French treat food like a delicate art. All I see on these plates is a fool's sophistication and gluttony," he said calmly, dabbing his lips with a napkin.

"'Food'...? When did I specify it was food?" Mr Malfoy drawled, suggestively.

Orion and Viscaria exchanged looks.

Draco scrunched up his face in confusion.

"Come now, will you give it a rest? There is never need for such talk at dinner," Mrs Malfoy tried to intervene, giving them a laboured smile. "Please, think of the children."

Rasmus and Mr Malfoy looked both a little ashamed and mostly irritated, but they were quieted.

A thick silence descended with only the slight disturbance of meaningless small talk along the way.

"How's the weather been these past few months over the channel?" Mrs Malfoy said to Rasmus, trying some idle chat to slightly lift the mood.

"Mostly good."

"Ah... that's nice... I've heard that..."

But, Rasmus couldn't help himself, once again. Not that Orion blame him. Despite the small mercy of delicious and bountiful food, staring at dishwater was a strong contender to surpass the dinner in being riveting. "Hah. Still? A law-abiding citizen...? Your Ministry..."

Mrs Malfoy stifled a groan.

Mr Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "I honestly don't understand what you're talking about," he said, half-heartedly evasive. "You're too cynical. It's simply good fortune. I always seem to be rewarded such lovely benefits for my charity."

Rasmus raised his glass goblet in a mocking toast. "Of course. Charity."

"My goal is to improve the Wizarding World. Is it so hard to believe that?" Mr Malfoy said, somewhat offended-sounding.

"I know you believe that."

The room lapsed into silence, again.

Orion stifled a sigh.

This dinner was killing him.

As he continued to tuck into his meal, the rich pork enriching his tongue, Orion couldn't help but slide his eyes over to the bottle reading Schletters Fine Whisky resting nearby. Curiosity hit him like a brick and it bubbled like wildfire. How many times had he seen adults drink this?

He had seen adults drunk before - sluggish, jabbering. Freed from their exhibitions.

What was the flavour of this one?

Hmmm, he wondered if it cool like ice or if it would burn your tongue...?

"…So, how is France this time of year?" Mr Malfoy drawled, not even sounding remotely curious.

Sipping his drink, Rasmus cast a distasteful glance to the window. It had begun to rain. "It does me well to connect with the ancient roots of our family. Even, if some of us have forgotten such." He sent Mr Malfoy a look, who ignored it. "I've done some research on Armand Malfoy - and, it's quite intriguing. He was our French ancestor, Lucius, who came to Britain in 1066 and began our lineage here."

Orion couldn't help but roll his eyes as he chewed on a sausage.

Um, Mr Malfoy already knew that considering how much he talked about the family history to the point even Mrs Malfoy seemed to get a little annoyed.

Mr Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Well... there was a reason he left."

Rasmus pushed his half-finished soup away and began his Shepherd's pie. "As for personal preference. I intend no offence, but France is certainly better than dreary, old England," Rasmus announced idly, between bites, ignoring his brother's remark. "Oh, you cannot understand the depths of my disdain for this place after seeing what France has to offer."

Nearly everyone took offence to a varying degree over Rasmus' comment. Rasmus, who was leisurely dabbing his lips with his napkin, either did not notice, since most of them did try to conceal their irritation, or simply did not care.

Probably, the latter.

"Oh, I suppose it is, isn't it? France, after all, has quite the infestation of the undesirable sort, especially these days... My, you must feel right at home there," Mr Malfoy sneered - and, Rasmus sneered right back. "It must be intimidating returning to England, even for a short time." He smirked, steepling his fingers. "Once the troll dung sticks, it's difficult to wipe off."

"Lucius-!" his wife gasped.

Mr Malfoy ignored her. "But... we don't want to spill all the bad blood between us in front of the children," he said, and Mrs Malfoy looked relieved for a moment. "So, on another topic, how's the wife…?" Mrs Malfoy's relief died. "...Oh, I apologise again - _and _the mistresses_ and_ their bastards as well...?"

Rasmus' grip tightened on his glass slightly. "They're fine. My wife's had another child, after all this time..." Rasmus replied simply, his tone somewhat strained.

"Oh, really?" Mr Malfoy drawled, arching an eyebrow.

Rasmus ignored his brother's condescension. "Yes, I'm sure you've heard. Another son..." And, he seemed to brighten a little. "Her physical participation in the birth was minimised, thankfully. She was determined not to suffer one of nature's biases." A fond smile curled on his face, and his hazel eyes became a little distant. "Amazing how Healers and potions have progressed over the years."

"Yes, yes - riveting," Mr Malfoy drawled, leaning back in his chair and waving his hand dismissively. "...I apologise. I don't mean to assume. It's just... I've suddenly noticed that not one of them is here with us..." He smirked, leaning forward on the table with his fingers steepled. "Oh, I dearly hope there isn't any trouble in paradise."

Rasmus' grip tightened further on his glass and Orion swore he could see small cracks forming. "And, what of your 'paradise'... Lucius?" Rasmus sneered, stiffly letting go of his glass before it broke. "...After all, Lucius. I come here. I look at your wife. All I see is a tired woman with a tiresome husband; not someone on the brink of heaven's delights. Just deader and deader every time - it's not like we can't understand why..."

Orion's hand froze an inch from the bottle that read Schletters Fine Whisky. Draco choked on his water, proceeding to have a wheezing fit. Viscaria gaped, although the upward curl of her lip and the harsh breaths indicated she was trying to suppress laughter. Lord Malfoy was frowning deeply. And, Mrs Malfoy, herself, was frozen stock-still with a ghost of a smile still stuck to her face.

Mr Malfoy looked outraged beyond words; standing upright so abruptly it was a wonder his spine didn't snap. The man was definitely rearing for a fight as he raised his cane, breathing so hard it was a wonder his throat didn't clog and back like a hunchback with his hands digging into the table like claws.

...Only to feel his wife's soft, touch stop him.

Mrs Malfoy smile had cracked a little and struggled to stay upright, but a final gulp of her drink seemed to re-energize her. "Now, now, really. There really is no need such talk, gentlemen." She was polite, yet surprisingly forceful as she set the glass down almost in a stabbing motion. "Young ears are present. Please remember that." She smiled, tightly, giving them an imploring look.

"I think you should apologise to Narcissa, Rasmus," Lord Malfoy spoke up for the first time, his voice measured and ancient. "I didn't raise my son to by a mannerless nitwit."

Rasmus frowned. "But, father, Lucius-"

"I wasn't talking about Lucius. I was talking about Narcissa," Lord Malfoy spoke, and it was really just plain weird hearing the ever silent man's voice - Orion couldn't get over that. "Apologise, now." His tone was reprimanding and his eyes left no question. "You're only delaying the inevitable."

"Sorry, Narcissa," Rasmus said flatly.

"Say it like you mean it or I will throw you across this table and colour you like a red zebra with my cane," Lord Malfoy pressed like he was talking to a child not a grown man. And, Orion realised Lady Malfoy wasn't the only indomitable ruler of the Malfoy clan. "Apologise as I taught you, Rasmus. You aren't that French."

Rasmus breathed, putting on an apologetic smile as Mr Malfoy smirked. "I'm sorry, Narcissa, for my disgraceful behaviour. It was wrong of me and you're as beautiful as the day you married my brother," he said, looking at her imploringly like she was his only hope.

"Apology accepted. I forgive you," Mrs Malfoy replied with a sweet, almost smug smile and Rasmus let out a breath of relief. "Oh... and, that reminds me." She put her hand to her chest, gratefully. "Rasmus... oh, it was so kind of you to send those beautiful gifts of yours to the children a while back." She put on a face of light shame. "I forgot to thank you and never got to it, but I can tell you they were much appreciated."

Mrs Malfoy's change of subject proved successful as Rasmus' lips curled in an honest smile, waving it off humbly as if he hadn't just insulted the woman a few moments ago. "Hmm, yes. I thought it was the least I could do after not seeing them for so long and so on," Rasmus drawled, rather proud of himself. "So...?"

Rasmus, as did the rest of the adults, turned their attentions to Orion, Viscaria and Draco.

They received a slight surprise...

Orion was leaning back in his chair, leisurely sipping at the Schletters Fine Whisky bottle without care in the world. Oblivious to looks he was receiving. Viscaria was trying to conceal an amused smile. Draco had failed to keep the slightest of poise at the adults', with the exception of Rasmus', shocked faces and burst out into a full round of sniggers.

Mr Malfoy regained his composure rather quickly. "Orion!" he growled. The man lurched forward, over the table, seemingly ready to snatch the bottle from his ward grasps. "Put that down now! I'm not sure if you recall, but you're underage."

Completely unperturbed by the underage drinking, Rasmus interjected, "Oh, Lucius. Don't be such a wet blanket." He raised his own empty goblet so a house-elf would appear with a crack-sound and fill it to the brim with more of his drink. He raised his goblet to Orion encouragingly. "Let the child have a bit. He's under adult supervision."

Mr Malfoy continued to try and snatch the bottle tightly gripped in Orion's hand. After much difficulty, sloshes of alcohol splattering on the table cloth, Mr Malfoy managed to relieve Orion of the drink. "We'll speak about this later," Mr Malfoy warned a severely disappointed Orion - who had a slight, pink hue resting on his cheeks. Mr Malfoy then set the bottle by his own side and began to tauntingly fill his own goblet to the top, smirking at Orion's envious gaze and ignoring Mrs Malfoy's disapproving look.

Bastard. Orion would kill for that bottle back.

Rasmus sighed, muttering something that sounded distinctly like the word _prude_. Orion couldn't certain that was exactly what he said that - he felt a little dazed at the moment."Did you like your gifts, children?" Rasmus asked kindly, seemingly back on track and reminding others to do the same.

There was an awkward pause. Viscaria decided to be the first to break it. "Of course, how could I not...? How kind of you to appeal to my interests like that," she said sweetly. "I even managed to discover a new setting."

Mrs Malfoy sent a warning look.

Rasmus raised an eyebrow, rather bemused. "What new setting...?"

"Agony."

Orion felt a little off. He couldn't help a loud, almost-hysterical laugh bubbling from his mouth. Draco stifled his own laughter, failing appallingly. Lord Malfoy seemed faintly amused by it all and not even remotely irritated. However, rest of the adults were dismayed.

Rasmus stared at Viscaria with undecipherable look. Orion liked to believe this was the point where the man had finally figured out Viscaria was actually _crazy_. "That's… nice," he uttered dryly, exchanging glances with Mr Malfoy.

Viscaria smirked, unable to help herself. "I must admit, the screams... there is nothing quite like it," she said, taking a long sip of water from her glass. "Although, I am sad to say, the doll couldn't handle it for too long. Too _fragile_… too _flammable_." She looked oh-so pained. "Unfortunate, but great _fun_ till its very last moments, I assure."

By now, most of the table felt uneasy, although Mrs Malfoy looked a little nostalgic. "Ah - I _see_…" Rasmus trailed off, before trying to move on. "Draco…? Orion…?"

Orion smiled widely, slumping a bit in his chair. "_Oh_, I thank - I thank you for the thing… it was a nice gift." And, hee may have sounded rather tipsy at the moment, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Rasmus was bemused, Lord Malfoy was slightly amused, but Mr Malfoy was definitely not happy. Meanwhile, Mrs Malfoy's merely took another gulp of her drink. "Although... it did get rather dirty in the end."

Rasmus frowned. He looked like he was going to demand why, but Lord Malfoy spoke up. "Why?" the aged man asked, raising an amused eyebrow. His voice was slow and deep, having a presence to it like always. "What exactly did you do with it?"

Orion smiled stupidly, the alcohol clouding his mind. "Well, I, um... I first I used it as... uh... reins, that's it," he began, ignoring the strange looks being sent his way. "To, ya know, ride the peacocks across the garden like…"

Mr Malfoy paled. "What?"

"…until it couldn't go anymore. It was... it was fun. Like a broomstick, except on the ground and really loud," Orion went on obliviously while Mr Malfoy turned even paler. "I, I, ah, even let Viscaria have a go. I mean, I almost felt bad for the peacock, but then I remembered that it was evil… or was it Viscaria that was evil… Why was I riding a peacock, again…? Oh, because it was fun, yeah, I remember. Okay - then we both used the book to whack things across the room. Like a club. Viscaria and I managed to hit Dobby and Whimsy a few times."

Draco was let loose a muffled snigger, Viscaria was frowning and he, Orion, looked_ a bit_ out of it. Most of the adults weren't fairing well, either. Mr Malfoy still looked utterly horrified at the cruel treatment of his prized peacocks. Mrs Malfoy was massaging her forehead. Rasmus was at caught between smiling and frowning.

Lord Malfoy just seemed vaguely amused.

"How much did he drink?" Mrs Malfoy sighed, exchanging irritated looks with Mr Malfoy.

However, Orion wasn't finished with his tirade. "Hey, Rasmulast... I mean Rasmus, did you know you're going to die?" It was out of nowhere and earned a few warning glances, as Draco continued to snigger. "Don't worry, I have a plan. All we need to do is bury you in the backyard. Then, we'll pour water on you and you'll live forever... even when you're just bones."

Mr Malfoy took a gulp of his beverage, sighing. "Great. Now he's talking like a madman who thinks he's funny," Mr Malfoy murmured to himself, dryly, glancing around at the bemused faces. "...I suppose alcohol brings his father's side of the blood out."

Mrs Malfoy pursed her lips, but didn't argue.

Orion stuck his tongue out.

Rasmus was still brooding. "I supposed the English do not appreciate gifts as much as the French do," he said, suddenly, trying to take it all in his stride. Of course, his sentiments simply annoyed the other adults. "I suppose, Lucius, you threw away the Dragon Barrel Brandy I graciously gave you, as well…?" Mr Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It wouldn't surprise me. The disgraceful behaviour had to come from somewhere and I highly doubt it's Narcissa."

"You're obsessed with that drink," Mr Malfoy muttered, but seemingly chose not to dignify his brother with an answer beyond that.

Viscaria smiled pleasantly, giving her Rasmus an innocent look. "But, uncle? Draco did enjoy his gift." And, as she said this, it seemed to lift the Rasmus' spirits, making him begin to look fondly at a nervous-looking Draco. "Well... until he broke it a few days later, that is." Rasmus frowned. "Then, he cast it away like offal, crying about how much it sucked and how he _hated it_."

Rasmus choked on his drink - after a few moments of hacking, with Mr Malfoy half-heartedly patting him on the back, he managed to compose himself. "Well, then..." He glared. "...Rest assured, I won't be getting you three gifts anytime soon," he hissed, not paying attention to the wine dribbling down his indignant face and staining his fine suit.

Orion, Viscaria, and Draco all receive a severe reprimand after for their behaviour during the dinner.

Orion just supposed one couldn't have a little joy without a little pain.

And, joys such as these were well worth it.

* * *

**A.N: Hi, after all the things that have happened, I felt there needed to be a chapter just a little more... relaxed, I guess.**


	15. Chapter 14: Victory's Jaw

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 14: Victory's Jaw**

* * *

**25th July, 1987**

* * *

Orion stared at them.

"So, let me get this straight..." Orion began slowly. "...You want me to memorise these... queue lines." He raised up the notes, shaking them in the air. "So, I can... uh, bend the truth about my family and name them all monsters to be torn apart for the media?"

"Yes - for Merlin's sake, am I speaking Chinese?"

* * *

**26th July, 1987**

* * *

Utter scandal!

Lucius smirked as he read the Daily Prophet.

**BLACKS ABUSIVE TO BLACK HEIR?**

**By Rita Skeeter,**

_In this shocking news, information has come to light that not only have the Blacks were abusing the Black heir, Orion Black, for years. Yes, the Blacks family's hearts seem to be blacker than their name implies, as Orion Black speaks out for the first time and the Ministry releases previously over-looked, disturbing clues to what really went on behind the iron-clad, closed doors of 12 Grimmauld Place._

_Once a glamorous socialite of the Wizarding World, Walburga Black in her older years became a hermit. Not just a hermit, but an abusive firecracker at that - one of her former friends, prize-winning author, Delora Vaisey remarked, "The reason I cut ties with Walburga was her temper. She'd fly off the handle at every little thing and I'd be afraid she'd curse me to hell." Looks like without any friends to abuse, Walburga let her steam out by tormenting her orphaned grandson - the son of Mass-murderer Sirius Black, whom Vaisey commented "that'd she'd never really liked at all, even when he was a boy"._

Lucius snorted.

That was putting it mildly...

_Brave soul, Orion Black - age nine - had this to say when interviewed by the Daily Prophet's very own Rita Skeeter and Andy Smudgely, "I want to thank the Malfoys for taking me in and making me happy by giving me a new, warm and safe environment. Now I have a home that is nice, and I have three nice meals a day." He tearfully went on to say, __"I think that if the Malfoys had never helped me, my life would still be awful and lonely. Because Blacks, like my grandmother, might not help me, not feed me, or they would hit me when I cried."_

Orion had been surprising good reading the lines.

The right mix of emotion that seemed quite real.

Of course, a bucket-full of mint-icecream with elaborate topping and a small increase in his allowance seemed enough motivation for him to sell out his family, apparently. Oh, and some rather forceful words as well.

_When asked about if the rested of the Blacks knew of the abuse, Orion recounted, "Yes... I think so. One time when my grandmother was hitting me and I was all bruised up, great grandfather Arcturus came round..." Choking back tears, the brave nine-year-old continued, "I was all bruised up, and he didn't even ask. He and granny had some tea, chatted for a while, and then he left."_

_When hearing this, devastated guardian of Orion Black, Narcissa Malfoy, a distant cousin of Arcturus, had this to say. __"I think Arcturus knew of the abuse. Orion said that Arcturus had come round a few times." She claims that Arcturus and rest of his Black family were openly hostile in the presence of Orion as well, recounting how when they first adopted Orion they "invited them to dinner once to make bridges", but the Blacks were clearly "not happy" and "just up and left half-way through" without even saying goodbye._

_Arcturus hadn't just been hostile to Orion, this reporter witnessed Arcturus threatening Mrs Malfoy not to"make an enemy of [him]", assuring Mrs Malfoy "[wouldn't] find that very pleasant," at the Bulstrode's Charity event for the homeless, when she had been pressing him about the abuse claims._

Narcissa had really out-done herself. Lucius bet that Arcturus couldn't have foreseen sweet Narcissa doing this.

Although, frowning, he didn't like that she'd confronted him directly on her own.

Smugly sipping his cup of tea, he lifted the newspaper closer.

_The Ministry has released a statement that the Ministry investigation into these claims is pending, but a source slipped us a documentation of the spells that were used around Orion Black by his grandmother. Shockingly, there are two instances of an unforgivable being documented - the Cruciatus curse and the Imperius. To think that any person would use such dangerous, dark around an innocent child - or anyone for that matter! It opens up disturbing questions that the Blacks must answer for..._

"Enjoying yourself?" Narcissa interrupted, half-amused, half-disapproving.

"Quite," Lucius replied, smirking. "Didn't know you had it in you."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Maybe I've been spending too many years around you," she remarked, quirking an eyebrow at him. Lucius gave her a smirk, and, as she leaned in, a kiss on the lips that she returned full-forced, absent-mindedly sitting on the chair beside him as they wrapped their arms around each other. "P-perhaps I give myself too little c-credit," she gasped out as his mouth led hard kisses against her pale, long neck.

"You always do," Lucius murmured, grasping her face, as his lips connected back with hers hard.

Narcissa tangled her hands in his silky, blond hair. "D-don't sell yourself short. The r-records - br-brilliant!"

There was a gasp.

They de-entangled themselves to find Viscaria and Orion staring at them with wide eyes - the latter of which was slowly turning very red in the face, while Viscaria just stared at them like she was trying to figure out what exactly she was supposed to be seeing.

Lost in the moment, and the kids had to find them.

Fucking typical; Lucius scowled.

Well, he supposed since they were in the dining room it was a given.

He looked at Narcissa, who was blushing and looking rather embarrassed.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "We'll talk to about it when you're much older, and not a moment before," Lucius drawled, rather annoyed, as he re-opened his newspaper and began to read more about the Black's disgrace in the eyes of the media.

_As these nefarious actions are pending investigation and trial, Arcturus has been given leave with full pay. Although, this reporter thinks the investigation has a conclusion before it's even started since this isn't the first time the Black family have been faced with such claims..._

* * *

Well, that was weird.

Mr and Mrs Malfoy had seemed very irritated, excusing themselves quickly after demanding that the House-Elves clean up the left-overs. Mr Malfoy was going to work, as always. Mrs Malfoy said she was taking Draco for a day-out with the Parkinsons, which made him groan - the offer was made to Orion and Viscaria, but they quickly declined, leaving them with their buff-looking nanny, Miss Wolfe, who always seemed to whip her wand out at everything.

"Is she supposed to be a nanny-bodyguard hybrid, or something?"

As Mr Malfoy was leaving, he smirked at Viscaria's question. "She'll take better care of you than Miss Galster did...!" His smug words echoing, as he disappeared in the raging, green flames of the ornate fireplace.

Still, on the whole walking in on Mrs Malfoy and Mr Malfoy being too close for comfort, it wasn't like Orion didn't know what that was, though. His grandmother had told him of what adults did together, after all - she told to 'make him prepared for what he had to do' when he grew up and inherited his fortunes, and she'd been rather blunt about it at that. Not that it matter now - those were problems for the older him to deal with.

Still, he could help but crack a joke. "Is there a word stronger than disgust for what we caught your mum and dad doing?"

"Aversion. Abhorrence. Antipathy_. _Detestation. Loathing. Nauseating_. _Repulsion. Revulsion. Repugnance. Revolting," Viscaria read off, mechanically. "Take your pick, Orion." Orion scowled, knowing that she was teasing him. Then, she smirked, biting into a red apple and chewing in a way that grated on him. "I've already picked all of them, myself."

Orion rolled his eyes. "Have you suddenly become a walking dictionary all of a sudden?" Orion asked, quirking an eyebrow and giving her an amused grin. It was easy like that - almost back to normal for just a moment, and he could handle that without snapping.

She took a sip of her steaming, chocolate milk. "Perhaps..."

"Perhaps?"

"Perhaps..." Viscaria repeated, looking quite bored. "It's not like there's anything to do around here, anyway." She turned the half-eaten apple in her hand, giving him a side-ways look. "Father's still at boring work unless the newspapers come and he speeds back for a moment. Mother's off with her boring friends doing stuff... Remember when we first came home? How much they cared? Dotting? It looks like they don't care anymore."

Speak for yourself.

"Your father didn't seem to care much when I came home. Not even a smile," Orion said, giving her a look. "...He smiled when you did, though."

"Of course, I'm his little girl," Viscaria said, and she could have been smug if it wasn't for the look her eyes. "But, where is he now?"

"What are you getting at?" Orion asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing's changed," Viscaria said, getting to the point, finally. He gave her a confused look. "Everything's changed, but nothing's changed. They tried for a while to make it work, and then they gave up..."

Orion really didn't like where this was going. "Why are you saying that?"

"I just thought it was interesting. That's all," Viscaria said, casually, and drank down her chocolate milk to the last drop. "No need to get suspicious." She turned to him, licking her lips of the chocolate excess, but saying nothing else.

They lapsed into silence.

And, Orion wasn't sure if he was supposed to break it.

"So..." Orion said, slowly, thinking what the hell and what to say. "...Viscaria...?"

"So, Orion?" Viscaria teased back, smiling at him. "Did you know that the newspaper father was reading said 'Black' on it?" Orion stiffened a little, frowning at her. "That's interesting, isn't it?"

"Yes, very interesting," Orion agreed, easily.

Viscaria smirked, shaking her head. "The most interesting thing is that you betrayed the Blacks so easily... is that the type of loyalty we Malfoys should expect?" she chuckled, snaking her arm around his shoulder in an almost friendly-motion. "Then again - mother and father can be quite persuasive. Still, it must have been hard to sell out your family like that."

"I've already got a million regrets. What's one more?" Orion laughed, feeling a twist of guilt in his stomach.

"A million and one," Viscaria said flatly. Then, her eyes softened. "Was it hard?"

"Not as hard as I thought it'd be..." Orion paused. Too be honest, he barely knew them - that's what had made it an easy choice, well easy enough for Mr Malfoy to work his magic and make him cave. "There was also the fact that I had no choice. That helps me sleep at night."

"Does it, really?" Viscaria asked, but her tone gave away that it was a rhetorical question. "Oh well," she sighed, standing up with the screech of the chair legs against the smooth wood. "Since we're so bored, let's think of a game, shall we?" She said, with her most innocent smile - eyes beckoning him to play along, as he always seemed to do these days. "We can't just sit around all day, can't we?"

Orion rolled his eyes, which he seemed to be doing a lot of these past months. "Of course. Can we do something that doesn't involve anybody getting hurt?" he asked, exasperated.

Viscaria paused, then her smile brightened, and became a lot less innocent. "Let's explore the manor," she said - and, Orion almost felt like he should ask if she was feeling well. That seemed a little too - well - normal and unmean for Viscaria. "Come on, Orion! I'm not waiting till Christmas!"

"Fine," Orion sighed, standing up and giving her a look. "Where are we going?"

Viscaria gave him a blank look. "Explorers don't know where they're going. That's why they're called explorers."

"...Yeah, well, they have a vague idea," Orion retorted, dryly, giving her a look right back. "It's why they don't end up in Antarctica when they want to explore the Congo."

Viscaria paused, a glint in her eye. "Well..."

And, then she'd practically dragged him to that attic without another word.

Right past where Miss Galster had used to teach them lessons.

"We never explore that place, before..." Viscaria trailed, her voice almost seemed distant, as she dragged him up the narrow, winding stairs. "Let's explore it now. It's been killing me."

That was it?

That's all she wanted?

Really?

"What's brought this on?" Orion asked, bemused.

"Sudden curiosity..." Viscaria said, reaching for the silver knob on the door. She turned it and pulled only, only to find that it wouldn't open. "...Figures. It must be more interesting than I thought..." She frowned, looking down to see light creeping out the bottom of the door with a thoughful expression. She turned to look at the window to their right - she smirked.

"Well, if it's locked, let's just go back then," Orion sighed, but Viscaria ignored him, walking over to the window and opening it. The soft breeze wafted in, and the chirping of birds suddenly became more prominent - and, Viscaria raised a foot and stepped on the ledge, a bit of the old, white paint on the frame crunching a tiny bit under her feet. "...Um, what are you doing...?"

Viscaria stood on the window ledge, looking outside. "There's light coming from underneath the door. Maybe, there's a window on the other side we can get through," she said, as if it was obvious, as she cautiously stepped outside on the rooftop, balancing on the grey ledge that protruded less than half-metre from the black-tiled, arching roof. "...Aren't you coming?" her voice came, fainter than before.

At first, Orion wanted to say no, because he definitely wasn't dying for insane her. But, the look on her parents face if she fell and he had just let her go, that made a chill run down his spine. Besides, he can't just leave her - she was family and she very possibly might be in a way his semi-friend despite her gigantic, and he meant gigantic, flaws.

He took a deep breath, taking a step onto the ledge.

His fingers whitened against the window frames, as he gripped onto it tightly like a life-line.

And, the-

No.

No, no, no, no, no...

He was not looking down, oh no he wasn't!

Making sure not to glimpse over the edge, Orion's eyes looked around for Viscaria's form - only to find an open window not too far from where he was, sliding to the side in the light wind. Glimpsing it in the sunlight, he found that the window near the silver handle of it had a hole in it as if something had punch through - that was definitely where she had gone!

Well, she was safe. He should go back now.

Then, a thought he was trying to drown came back. She'd have to come back sooner or later - and, that way able time for her to fa- make a mistake - and, yeah, this was going to suck so much. Taking a large gulp of fresh air, he very slowly tried to inch himself further on the ledge - he didn't move an inch, though, as if his whole body was frozen like ice and most of all his fingers to the window frame.

He stayed stock-still for a few moments.

No, this was crazy.

Viscaria's head popped out the window like a mole. "Are you coming?" she asked casually, as if they were not completely crazy children who'd probably not live to adulthood. "There's so much interesting stuff in here, Orion."

"I hate you..." Orion muttered, gritting him teeth, and not moving an inch.

Viscaria gave him an annoyed look. "Really interesting stuff, Orion?"

"I'm not coming," Orion snapped, edging himself back towards to the window.

Viscaria pouted. "Really interesting stuff, Orion! Come on!" she shouted, and Orion was just going to tell her just where to stuff it when she continued. "All sorts. Stuff about you, your mummy and your daddy as well." Making his eyes widen. "This must father and mother's secret record room - what better place to put confidential documents than an isolated place like this."

Now, she could be lying.

Now, she could be telling the truth.

Oh, fuck me.

Orion took a step forward on the ledge, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He took another step, almost like a machine, and then another and another - don't look down, Orion! Don't look down, Orion, you moron! He leaned his elbow further against the roof, almost dying - or at least it felt that way - when one of the tiles slipped and nearly smashed into his foot before falling off the roof and landing - no, don't look down - somewhere with a crunch (maybe it had landed in a hedge or something?).

He breathed hard, as his fingers clasped the intended roof dormer for the window, and he practically dived inside the room, practically scrambling across the floorboards like a clumsy cat. Frozen on the floor in a crouched position, he breathed in and out - exhaled, inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled - a bead of cold sweat trickling from his forehead and hitting the vaguely dusty floor, making a dark spot.

Merlin!

Viscaria's girly giggle, a giggle he very much hated, grated on his ears from above - and, her brown, dolly shoes with white, woolen socks stepping right in front of his field of vision. He gritted his teeth, raising his glaring eyes up her frame to her grinning face to give her a loathing look. "Oh, don't be like that. If you weren't such a sissy, you wouldn't have nearly wet yourself," Viscaria said, raising her hands placating.

"I-If..." He cursed his stutter, as he paused for breath. "If you weren't such a crazy girl, we wouldn't have nearly died to get in a stupid room." He glared, again, more fiercely. "Sorry for not wanting 'Died from falling off a roof like a bloody idiot' on my gravestone!"

You know, he missed when Viscaria and him just played dolls.

At least his life wasn't in danger then.

And, at least they weren't pulling mean-spirited pranks back then as well, before he forgot.

"...Are you going to stay like that all day?" Viscaria asked, dryly, looking him up and down. "Or, are you going to make this trip worth something?"

Oh, damn her!

* * *

Cassiopeia looked livid.

Her face was set in stone, and her wrinkles reminded him of chasm in the rock being made even deeper by flowing streams. Her black hair, that was greying at the sides, was tied back. She sat in the chair across his desk, and if her hands could dig into the chair-

"...Don't scratch the chair, Mrs Black. Ministry State Issue antique..."

Cassiopeia's light blue eyes narrowed, and cooled to ice. "Silly me. My apologies," she replied, half-heartedly, as a tight smile cut into her sharp features. "It's just myself overcome by emotion by these terrible claims you're making about my, Orion's family." She tilted her head, raising her teacup at him. "Well played, Lucius Malfoy. It's not often a man lives up to his reputation."

Lucius arched an eyebrow. "What reputation? I'm just a law-abiding citizen doing his duty?" he drawled, leaning back his chair with an arched eyebrow at her.

What did this Black bitch want, exactly?

Maybe her ultimate revenge was to bore him to death.

"Now, you know I cannot possibly comment on that," Cassiopeia replied, a grin betrayed her amusement behind her cold exterior, as she arched an eyebrow back. "But, I haven't come here just to talk about chairs and your reputation." Her face hardened, her eye perusing him like a hawk. "I've come to warn you - a dutiful token between esteemed, pure-blood families, link by blood and marriage through darling Narcissa."

"How kind..."

"How kind indeed," Cassiopeia replied, sipping her tea with a kind smile. "I'm sure, a smart man like you has already had their reservations, but I'm here to set aside doubt is all." She tilted her head at him. "Umbridge is not a trustworthy woman to associate with, Mr Malfoy. I wouldn't recommend allying with her."

As if stating the obvious much...

"I know," Mr Malfoy drawled, not even surprised she knew or at least suspected. After all, Arcturus had asked her to destroy those records years ago and the woman seemingly hadn't from the tidbits the press had managed to get a hold of.

"You've been surrounding yourself with a lot of untrustworthy people, Mr Malfoy," she said, clicking her tongue, as her eyes raised to the ticking clock on the wall. "Right about now, Albert Greengrass is being arrested for suspected gross manipulations of Wizengamot Administration Service's documents." Lucius gritted his teeth behind his thin lips, giving her a cold look - that man was valuable. "Umbridge will be question on her gross negligence in inspecting the records, and I doubt she'll thank you for that, now..." She smirked. "As I said a friendly warning between families."

Lucius laughed. "Is that all?"

"No, but I think you'll find out the rest very soon, won't you?" Cassiopeia said, giving him a smug look. "I'm not the type to spoil the surprise, after all."

"Really? I'm not surprised since you're very well-known for turning tricks and surprises," Lucius drawled, giving her a cold look. "Didn't you once jump out a birthday cake once?" He had a ponderous look. "I swear you did once."

"Resorting to pretty words like that?" She arched an eyebrow, setting her teacup down on the desk and stood up to leave. "Shows you've already lost, doesn't it, Mr Malfoy?"

"You must have lost many times in your life, then," Lucius drawled, steepling his fingers together, as he watched her leave with narrowed eyes.

"Funny, you should say that..." Cassiopeia said, stopping at the door with a smile curled on her lips. "Thing is, we've had time to stew and learn from our mistakes. You'll have no such luxury..."

As soon as the door clicked shut, he gave a dark smile - he'd expected retribution, but not something so abrasive and not so soon, as that wasn't really Arcturus' style - if it was Arcturus, or could, Merlin-forbid, Cassiopeia Black was stretching her dark wings once again? And, Cassiopeia had been clever enough to not tell him the whole story, so he'd be wasting time flying back and forth to get all the pieces.

First, before he did anything, he needed to sort out what she'd let slip.

Albert Greengrass was a good ally, and had been partly-responsible for why a lot of Lucius' agendas had been passed over the years. The man was sly, quick-witted and ruthless when need-be - obviously, not someone he could afford to loose anytime soon. Did people realise how hard it was to get someone good at their job...?

The Blacks had realised, and that's why Albert Greengrass had been the obvious target - all the Blacks needed to do was find evidence of his tampering or plant ones themselves.

He'd expected the Umbridge one for quite some time, since she had been approached by Arcturus Black to destroy the records. Still, he wouldn't let a valuable piece like that be swept under the carpet without a fight - obviously, he'd need to get to her before the sly snake cracked and signed a documentation of truth that the records were fake

The use of 'will' in Cassiopeia's sentence, indicated that hopefully there'd still be some time.

Now, as for what else they might do...

They might go after...

First things first, he needed to get in contact with some people.

He pressed his stainless steel call-bell sitting on his desk.

Within a moment, the door creaked open and his Secretary's shiny, strawberry blonde head popped through the gap. Jacoba Blishwick was a fair-skinned woman with horn-rimmed glasses that seemed a little too big - and, despite her young age, surprisingly good at her job.

So good he supposed could forgive the green skirt and orange, black peter-pan collared blouse that made her look like a cupcake gone wrong today. "Yes sir?" she said, smiling somewhat brightly yet timidly, closing the door behind her.

"I want you to arrange an appointment with Geoffrey Berrow, as soon as possible," he replied, taking a long sip of his steaming tea. "Ah... Then, his wife, Adonia, as soon as possible. Make them separate meetings adequately space apart. Don't inform either of them that I'm meeting them both just yet."

She nodded, hastily. "Yes sir."

* * *

Orion frowned.

The attic was big with long, arching wooden frames that stretched pretty far back into the shadows. Many things, all sorts in different sizes all seemingly piled on each-other, were blanketed by white sheets that were a little or a lot dusty in other areas.

Viscaria grinned, almost like it was Christmas. "Come on! Let's explore."

Orion sighed, but even he couldn't help but get excited feeling. It was not like he'd ever been in this attic; it was something new, like a place full of blanketed mysterious. Besides, Viscaria's smile was almost contagious - not cruel, dark or smug, but genuinely excited for once and he was pretty sure he hadn't seen that in a while.

"Okay..." he said, a small grin forming on his lips without his consent, as he lifted the cover off and began to carelessly shift through the nearest box.

It wasn't long before he found something.

It was a figurine of a richly-robed wizard with a long, black bear that pointed downwards. The piece, having gathered some dust from being stashed in the attic for Merlin knows how long, was rather handsome. Meticulously crafted with gold trimmings and beautiful sapphires for the eyes, Orion bet that Viscaria would rather like it.

"I found something," he half-shouted, hoping the door was thick enough to stop sound wafting down the steps and catching an ear.

Viscaria peeped over his shoulder, side-eyeing her he could see she was looking the figurine over. "Hmm... It's alright-looking," she said, not too-impressed but not too harsh (although, Orion was a little disappointed by that), as she moved away to look around some more. There was the sound of her shifting through the papers - then, a pause - and she said, as an afterthought. "...At least the eyes are pretty."

Orion slightly smiled, as he shift through a few more boxes.

**Nimbus 1000! Best Broom!**

**By John Warwick,**

_Now, people weren't too sure about Nimbus Racing Broom Company when they first got into the game with their extraordinary ideas of broomsticks, but gee-golly does the Nimbus 1000 handle like some nifty dream. Revolutionary in its linear design, the Nimbus 1000 is like a Quidditch enthusiasts fantasy brought to life, but much better with..._

Orion flicked through a few more papers, somewhat interested.

**Mugglisation! Don't be A Square!**

**By Alessa Fenetre,**

_Come on, girls! Sick of those grubby, old robes your grandmother, grandfather, great grandfather, great grandmother - and million more 'greats' - have worn? Well__, Twilfitt and Tattings is opening its very first, official Muggle-inspired clothing line, even if other high-class clothing stores have already beaten to them to the punch by decades...!_

Bleh.

Boring!

He flicked some more.

**Nobby Leach? Knob or Noble?**

**By Elizabeth Ackerly,**

_Britain's first Muggle-born Minister for Magic..._

...Orion's eyes widened at that.

They'd had a Muggle-born Minister for Magic?

_...dramatically slammed Abraxas Malfoy, the head of __Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,__ for "grandstanding" on the political issue of Squib's rights, declaring the man was merely "playing the opposition" to "fill his pockets" and __stipulate "more intolerance and conflict for profit" rather than having a "vested interest in equality and justice"..._

Orion rolled his eyes.

Why was he not surprised?

_...the Minister in last night's speech, claimed that the Ministry must operate as an "impartial force, not polluted by bigotry and bias", that is willing to "look at the bigger picture to come to a fair judgement", and doing otherwise would "dilute the democracy we proudly uphold"..._

"Hey, Orion, I think I've found something," Viscaria interrupted, her voice a little muffled.

"Coming." Putting the old newspaper back in the box, he began to make his way over to her, finding her on her knees with an open box in front of her and bits of paper tossed around her. "Well - you've been busy..."

She passed him a black-and-white photograph.

There was a group of people in formal wear, perpetually raising their fancy, glass goblet, some of which glinted in the light of the chandelier. His eyes honed in on the blonde woman in a silver gown, with the pretty, big grey eyes and the wide, pearly smile, near the centre. Mrs Malfoy - it must have been! - it was too uncanny!

And, also, as his eyes slid from what was like day to night, beside her was a beautiful woman with thick, shining dark hair elaborately styled upwards in wavy curls and thick eyelashes with heavily hooded eyes that lacked all light besides an unsettling glint. The dark, promiscuous attire that was her cut against her pale skin like a knife, as did the red of her lips. It was Cousin Bellatrix, of course, and she never failed to make him feel unsettled.

Even, her presence on the Black family tree tapestry was...

He couldn't find the word to describe it, but it certainly wasn't pleasant. Especially, as his grandmother had both seemed to admire the woman and also shrivel like an ant at the mention of her name.

And, then, Orion frowned as his eyes scrutinised the picture further...

Beside Bellatrix, there was another woman. A bit less severe, but very similar-looking; the pretty woman in a white dress with a puffed out skirt, a thin sash with a voluminous thick bow at the waist. Her face? It was like Mrs Malfoy's softness had been combined with cousin Bellatrix's sharpness to create a happy, although still a little biased to the latter, medium.

"That woman beside Aunt Bellatrix looks like she could be their sister, doesn't she?" Viscaria remarked, rather curiously.

Orion nodded, trying to remember if he'd seen her face before, but came up blank. Which was odd - maybe, he was loosing his touch? His grandmother had practically made him memorize all the esteemed lineage of the House of Black - he knew Misapinoa to Phineas Nigellus, Araminta Meliflua to Lucretia, Charis to Cygnus, Pollux to Dorea, the works!

Yet, he couldn't place this mysterious woman's face. He almost doubted she was a Black - but, another quick glance showed she certainly must be! She looked almost exactly like Bellatrix, with a touch of Mrs Malfoy, for Merlin's sake!

Ugh!

He did not spend nearly everyday memorising those names to forget one!

"Come on..." he hissed, slapping his forehead.

Viscaria just stared at him, like he was an exhibit at a zoo. "What? Is your unhealthy, encyclopedic knowledge of your family tree failing you?" she asked, amused. Orion gritted his teeth, trying to block her annoying voice out as he thought. "...Orion? Really? Come on, it's not a big deal - no need to pretend you're constipated..." She sighed. "Just forget about it."

Then, it hit him.

_"Why are their burn marks on the tree?"_

_"Forget about those."_

"I think she's one of the burned marks," Orion said, more to himself than Viscaria. Looking at her, he noticed Viscaria had her 'care to elaborate' face on - and, so, he did so. "There's these burn marks on the Black family tapestry - when I'd ask about them, my grandmother would either change the subject or tell me to 'forget them'."

Viscaria's forehead creased. "'Forget them'?

He chuckled, an amusing thought crossing his mind. "I didn't even know my father's name until they took me away and told me - I guess he was one of the burned marks too." He grinned a toothy grin, feeling a weight in his stomach. "...It's funny, isn't it?"

"What's funny?"

"How disposable we are."

Then, there was a loud crash...

* * *

**A.N: Ah, the forgotten and dusted. Also 'crashing' noises.**


	16. Chapter 15: Bad Blood

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Chapter 15: Bad Blood**

* * *

**26th July, 1987**

* * *

**Lucius.**

The Berrow House was quite... quaint.

The estate was rather grand, despite being only three stories above ground it made up for it with how expansive it was. The first level was made of diagonally-shaped, grey stone walls while above black wooden beams lined the house cuttingly against a white exterior. The black-tiled roof sloped, as window dormers stuck with arched roofs - all the windows a deep, dark brown.

Lucius briskly strode through the iron-welded gate with the fanciful letter 'B' perched on the top into a front garden. The well-cut grass split by the cobblestone pathway he was walking on and his eyes critically glancing at the many, passable sculptures which aligned it.

He snorted at a stone fountain with a bronze, detailed phoenix gracefully poised as the fountain's head. The Berrows always had an obsession with the insipid things, he frankly found them overrated.

Stepping up the white stone steps, he stood before a pair of dark brown doors with silver knockers. Grasping one, he slammed it against the door thrice - and, then stepped back, waiting patiently with his hands behind his back.

Within moments, the doors opened to reveal nothing... Lucius stared blankly, before rolling his eyes. It was the typical courtesy to at least greet your guest, business or pleasure, last time he checked in this country. It must be on account they were foreign, still inexperienced with the etiquette.

"...M-Mr Malfoy, sir," a creaky voice came from below, the courtesy becoming even worse.

Looking down, Lucius sneered at the House-Elf. "Where is your master?"

The bug-eyed vermin's eyes nearly popped out from its sockets. "Master Berrow is in the back yard, sir, on the Veranda, sir. The quickest ways is through the gate on the left..."

He promptly turned away in annoyance, briskly beginning to stride down the steps, passing the rose bushes the lined the front wall and went through the open, iron gate been. All the while seething at the slight.

Walking along the prickly-vined side of the house, he was quickly faced with acres of meticulously cut lawn. Rather plain compared his own; to be expected as nobody could beat the Malfoys, who had won gardening awards quite often... especially with the added bonus of those majestic peacocks strutting about. Despite Narcissa's initial reluctance, it really made it quite the artist's paradise all at his doorstep.

He felt rather calmed down when he found found Geoffrey on the veranda.

The tanned wizard smiled. "Ah, Lucius, my man." His attire was unfortunately casual; a purple polo-shirt and cardigan wrapped around his waist by the sleeves, a pair of beige trousers that seemed a size too small, brown loafers and his black hair wavy and slick - a style that reminded Lucius of a pampered, prized poodle. "I thought you'd never come. What took you so long?"

"You know how the office is," Mr Malfoy said vaguely.

Geoffrey arched a thick eyebrow. "You should try the courtroom." Mr Malfoy dutifully let out a chuckle, before glancing at the veranda. "...Ah, you want to sit down. Follow me, of course, I've got refreshments," he said.

Soon enough, Geoffrey and he were sitting on the veranda with honeybee-painted mugs of steaming coffee simmering on the table.

A thin smile curling on Lucius' lips, he spoke. "..You understand I have a dilemma, right?"

"Lucius, I say this as a friend. The Black boy honestly seems more trouble than he's worth," Geoffrey cut to the chase, leaning back in his chair, his skin practically glowing in the sunlight. "Why don't you just buy a puppy or something instead when you get bored of your children instead of getting involved in dangerous gambits?" he laughed, grinning toothily.

Lucius made a drawn-out, exasperated sigh. "Unfortunately, I'm not a pet person."

"The only animals you like are the ones you can eat right... that and your peacocks?" the other wizard said with a smirk. "Then, why do you still have him Lucius?" He arched an eyebrow, a glint of the devil's advocate in his dark-brown eyes. "You've said he's 'more trouble than he's worth'. I thought you Malfoys don't make bad investments?"

Lucius gave him a tight smile. "In all truth, he's a handful, but manageable. Why do you want to know?"

"I just want to know what my wife and I are investing in..." Lucius frowned, somewhat surprised at that. "My wife and I tell each other most things. ou inviting both of us without telling us, hoping we wouldn't have enough time or think to contact each other? Hopeless. As I said - we tell each other everything," the wizard said, looking even smugger.

_Tell each other everything, hmm?_ "You had an affair?"

"So did my wife," Geoffrey said easily, his eyes darkening a little. "It seems your game is off." Lucius' eye twitched. "This is not the way to get on my good side, Lucius." He gave him a cool smirk - which Lucius returned. "You want to convince me to get Albert and Umbridge out of trouble, don't you?" Lucius paused and Geoffrey arched an eyebrow. "Hmm... you want Albert out - believably, of course - but, you also want something else, don't you...?"

He frowned. "Your wife can supply me that."

"And, what can she do that I can't?" Geoffrey asked, his leg nudging Lucius' playfully.

Not that Lucius found his demeanor remotely funny, it made him want to sneer at the fool - he was under pressure and needed to act fast, not attend a comedian stand. "I'm sure she'll tell you. You tell each other everything, right?" he drawled, giving him a blithe look.

"In great detail..." the man said, sipping his coffee, in his eyes danced amusement. "...Hmm, I could help you. But, why would I...?" He arched an eyebrow, looking far too relaxed for Lucius' liking. "Well, well, what can you give me that I haven't, couldn't already give myself? It's not like I'm a Weasley - there's plenty of money and I'd gander just as much as yours."

"I could promote your agenda and image," Lucius offered half-heartedly, starting at the bare minimum.

"Reputation is like dust in the wind. It only lasts for a short time... I'm not a fan of favours and rewards that just blow away when it suits them. I prefer something a little more solid and enduring. Do you have something like that in stock?"

"Something priceless?"

"Perhaps..." Geoffrey said vaguely, his finger idly traced the rim of his coffee mug. "...Aren't the Malfoy's known for being able to afford the priceless? I've heard your manor is full of treasures..."

Lucius paused. He knew Geoffrey well-enough on this account.

_Priceless._

For a man like Geoffrey, it had to be something useful, interesting and something he could look fifty years on from now and still smile or smirk or grin at. Not some useless trinket dimming in value a pinch by the second, not even a ancient vase from some half-remembered dynasty worth mountains of galleons. No, it had to be something useful... a weapon of a kind, one that never dulled.

A weapon of a kind, perhaps, but not just any weapon?

Geoffrey's lips dipped and boredom began to ease into the man's eyes. It was a sign that Lucius had to think fast.

"I'll give you three things..."

"How generous."

"...Three rewards for your co-operation," Lucius continued with a confident smile. "Firstly, Victoria Ledbury is making trouble for you, has she not?" Geoffrey opened his mouth. "Not directly, I've heard, but just enough that you're rather irritated about her, aren't you?" Geoffrey tilted his head at him to go on. "I've got dirt on her and I could pass it along to you as a reward to your co-operation, if you want?"

"Dirt?" Geoffrey barked out a laugh. "On that saint?"

Lucius quirked an eyebrow. "Saint?"

"Or, at least she thinks it," Geoffrey said, shrugging his shoulders and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Then, she deliberately deludes herself. Her husband went to Greece a decade ago on a diplomatic visit. An excuse to have sexual relations with all sorts of exotic women, including one or two who weren't even women yet... A romantic little schoolboy at heart, the fifty-seven year old kept correspondence with one of the non-legal, pretty red-haired, blue eye'd ones, of course. Mrs Ledbury covered it up to save face." Lucius smirked, letting the words sink in.

The black-haired wizard raised an eyebrow. "Is that true?"

"Does it matter?"

Geoffrey grinned at him, eyes crinkling, making the crows feet around his eyes slightly more pronounced. "That's rather nice of you, Lucius..." His tone made it clear he was tempted but obviously there needed to be more added to the platter. "What of the other, _accompanying _rewards for my civil service in helping these wrongly-convicted individuals?"

"...The Berrows have a rivalry against the Parkinsons, don't they?" Lucius said knowingly. Part of the reason why Kendra Parkinson and her ugly-duckling daughter, Pansy or whatever, had stopped visiting the manor when Adonia and Geoffrey began to be invited more frequently. "What if I could help in this regard? For decades, your dispute has been over the rights to Bargrove Manor and its precious assets - what if a long-forgotten piece of evidence could turn up clearing up the confusion of property rights?"

"You could pull that off, really? The Ministry's testing is quite rigorous, to put it lightly..." Geoffrey replied with an easy smile and glint in his eye. "It's not like people haven't tried before and failed quite... tragically."

Lucius smirked. "I have my ways."

Most of them hardly legal.

The dark-haired man looked him over, his eyes almost like darts ready to be thrown at any twitch. "And, the third reward to go with this? How generous. Well, let's make a deal on my terms: when they're of age, my son will marry your daughter. Does that sound fair?"

_No, it did not sound fair!_

His eyes widened. "What?"

"You don't know, do you? The great Lucius Malfoy doesn't know." There was a chill on Lucius' spine despite how well his face masked it. "Golden... the price is higher than you think. Albert and Umbridge aren't the only people in the shark pit... The Blacks aren't just going after them - no - all your known supporters and most of your network are going to bite the dust." Lucius' eyes widened. "They've secretly compiled a case against a lot of them - and, for quite a few, it will end up with a Dementors kiss."

"...I didn't think they had the gall," Lucius said, his voice sharp as ice.

"You pissed them off, they want you ruined. Get rid of all your supports and you fall, simple construction," Geoffrey said lightly, shaking his head. "You know I'm your only on-hand hope with dealing with something so big." Lucius frowned. "Of course, they're not just doing that." Geoffrey gave Lucius a look. "There are things even I don't, and I have a feeling that this full-frontal attack from them is just... I wouldn't call it exactly a distraction, but it may have a part to play in that area."

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I wouldn't know," Geoffrey replied, shaking his head. "But, when they approached me yesterday, they didn't seem the type to be easily satisfied." He paused, thoughtfully, as Lucius' eyes narrowed. "They're not the type to loose, aren't they? They like to win on all fronts - that's who the Blacks are, or at least what they like to think they are, with their conquering and victories." Geoffrey arched an eyebrow, frowning.

"But, I don't understand..." Lucius said, his voice hard. "They can easily destroy me for their petty revenge with their method now - well, at least they think they can. What else could they do?"

Geoffrey sighed. "What do the Blacks want?"

"Me, destroyed for my insolence. Their house returned to its former glory. Orion..." Lucius drawled, and then his eyes widened as a thought occurred.

"Now, if I was a nefarious Black..." the man began, rather fondly. "...No, no." He waved his hand dismissively. "I'm sure you don't want to hear my theory on all this..."

Lucius gave him a dry look. "No. Go on."

"Are you sure?" Geoffrey asked curiously.

"No. Go on."

"Well, if your sure..." His lips spread in the Cheshire grin. "Blacks your most valuable asset or human being or whatever. You know?"

Lucius sighed, giving the man deathly look. "I know. Stop playing games."

"If the situation looks beyond your control, the Ministry will force you to go into hiding despite your protests. You'd be put in a gilded cage... for protection... and sure you could chirp at the nearest little birds of yours to do your bidding, but cages are very restrictive. The Blacks could do almost whatever they liked."

"And, how would they do that? Get me in the 'cage'?" he drawled.

"Oh, you know the answer to that," Geoffrey said, rolling his eyes. "

Lucius stood up, the chair legs screeching against the floor.

"Oh, just before you go. A token of our trust," Geoffrey said in a tone that suggested there wasn't much of an option as far as he was concerned. "To commend a bargain well-struck. I won't let you leave till you do, you know that, I'm very pushy."

"What?" Lucius said flatly.

"A Politician under an unbreakable vow - that would make my day..."

Lucius' snapped his head to him, eyes blinking. Did he just suggest...? Oh, he did. "...I'm not making an Unbreakable Vow!" Lucius said, giving him a sharp glare. "Not for anyone or anything, Berrow. Do I make myself clear?"

Was this man an idiot? Hadn't Geoffrey realised that he had to leave?

"Fine..." Geoffrey replied as if he'd just rejected a day out at the Quidditch World Cup. "A Magical Oath suffice..." He smirked at Lucius' agitation. "...friend."

* * *

A cold sweated beaded on his brow, popped outside his manor.

He needed-

Lucius stopped, transfixed.

The gate was strangely bent-looking, open and clanging against the brick wall. He raised his hand to touch the burnt, peeling metal, instinctively taking out his wand with the other - the searing hot that touched his fingers almost made him yelp.

His feet ran before his mind caught up, and he tripped up. "Agh!" Making a hard impact with the ground, the wind was knocked out of him.

Groaning, blowing the irritatingly long strands of his hair from his face, he pushed himself up on his stinging hands. Looking over his shoulder, he found to his horror, his, his... Merlin... he felt a sickness pooling in his stomach...

One of his prized peacocks was dead, burnt like an overcooked turkey on the ground.

Looking around, there were more bloodied heaps of peacocks on the ground.

He gritted his teeth to the point he could break them, his vision turning red as he pushed himself to his feet and charged down to pathway as fast as he could with his wand drawn high in the air ready.

He pushed through the splintered door that looked like it'd been battered by a dragon to find the manor completely trashed.

Ornaments with value beyond compare broken into pieces and glass shards littered the floor. Paintings of Malfoy dignitaries were ripped out, their paper flapping in the wind from the broken windows, as the people once inside them probably were hiding somewhere in this vaste house.

**VOX MAGI.**

Mocking in red, Lucius eye's widened in horror.

A copper-like smell hit his nose.

"Viscaria? Viscaria?" he shouted at the top of his lungs, eyes going wild as he began to push open doors, some barely still on their hinges. "Viscaria?!" No matter how hard he-

"Heh, ha, heh..."

Something bashed into him with a screech, making him fall hard.

Glowing, milky yellow eyes, chapping, sharp teeth, a nest of dark spikes on its head and a cone of a nose was all he could see as he struggled. The high-pitched cackle ringing his ears, as he shoved it off, jumping back with a death-grip on his wand.

"What the-?" he gasped, blood trickling down his arm. "Avada-"

It was a short, nightmarish creature, its thin body hunched as it's head wretched high to give out another high-pitch cackle as it launched itself back at him as quick as a blink, blood dripping from its teeth. "Heh, ha, heh, ha."

Dodging and letting it slam into a cabinet, he twirled around with a steady hand. "Stupefy," he hissed, the red light slamming into the cabinet and just missing the creature that burst out, but he was quick. "Diffindo!" And, in a slashing motion the creature was cut in half.

Hot liquid hit his cheek, almost burned it.

Breathing, he stepped forward, looking at it cautiously. It was almost like a broken doll, it's bony legs, the closest appendage, were darkly bloodied and the equally blood-splattered upper-half rested right next to the closet it had flown out of.

He edge closer, looking at it's lopsided mouth full of pointy teeth and lined with blood. Red blood, thick red that was too light to be from the thing's insides.

Red like the writing on the wall.

Then, Lucius felt a sharp pain in his neck.

"Heh, he, heh..."

He slipped into nothing but darkness...

* * *

He woke up the a blurry ceiling in sheets that were too rough for his skin. Groaning, blinking his wet eyes away he tried to sit up only to find his body felt heavy as troll.

The door burst open with a loud bang.

"You're not supposed to go in there," a woman's voice sounded.

"D.M.L.E.. Do not obstruct our business, please," the grating voice of Madam Bones came, making him glance over just to see the woman flashing the Medi-Witch, judging from her white uniform, some identification. "We have a short window, ma'am."

With all his strength, Lucius rolled his eyes, laying back in the unsatisfactory bed.

The black-haired Medi-Witch stumbled. "But, but-?

"Leave now."

The Medi-witch paused, before backing out with one last worried glance at Mr Malfoy with her narrow, brown eyes.

There was a silence.

Bones cleared her throat. "Mr Malfoy... are you alright?"

Yes, just dandy.

His damn head or heart was pounding everywhere so much he wouldn't be surprised if it burst from his body. He brought his hand up to his collar and loosened his golden tie because his throat felt suddenly constricted and he couldn't breathe properly - the breaths were coming too fast and his throat was sickly dry...

"Where am I...?"

"Saint Mungo's, Mr Malfoy," Bones said, and he groaned. "You suffered a poisonous dart to the neck."

He swallowed it all down, and raised his chin up as far as he could. "...Well, to answer you previous question, it's like Christmas has come early, Madam," he hissed, sarcasm tightly smothering his voice, as he'd composed himself. "Where's the big red bow... oh that's back at the house, isn't it?"

"Too be fair, Mr Malfoy, you brought it on yourself."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Your bedside manner is terrible."

"You may deny you have any connections with the Vox Magi, but many have their doubts," Bones said, calmly, as her eyes hardened like steel. "I think you got cold-feet like always, and now they want revenge, don't they?"

"Does all your deductive genius normally end up with you getting the wrong conclusions?" Lucius drawled, although his throat felt too scratchy.

"Well, we'll see," Bones said, her eyes turning colder. "That was an Erkling who attack you. It has a penchant for human flesh, especially children." He felt himself pale. "Your employee, Miss... Wolfe, found that out the hard way."

Lucius sneered. "Oh, she's dead, is she?" Bones nodded gravely. "Ah, well, it's not like I was going to give her, her another paycheck anyway after that failure - useless bitch."

"You're a terrible person," Bones said rather matter-of-fact. "Anyway, your children are not on the premises. It looks they were taken by human intervention, so that Erkling was more of a present for you - your staff, your peacocks..." Lucius grimaced. "...and, a few of your House Elves just got caught in the cross-hairs."

Deciding to ignore her for the simple fact she didn't sound like she'd made much progress, he turned to his racing thoughts. What reason did the Vox Magi have to waste their resources on a blood purist like himself? All just because he didn't join their clubhouse...

His hands raked through his thick, blond hair; racking his brain for answers.

It was too personal.

Everything that had happened to his family was too personal.

Then a thought had occurred to him and his shaking knuckles stilled, then clenched white as Cassiopeia Black's words surfaced.

What if the Vox Magi were just a little bedtime tale used to inspire fear and to inspire blame? It was an interesting thought. What had it been? Last year, just before the first abduction attempt on Viscaria and Orion took place, there were those two cloaked men who came to him asking for his enlistment into the mysterious Vox Magi?

Were they just puppets for the show...?

He'd have to verify it with his Pensieve, but they strangely hadn't seemed very displeased. Not even that surprised such a loyal servant to the Dark Lord's cause would deny their 'ever-so spectacular' little Vox Magi cause.

He hadn't really thought about that one moment. When the Vox Magi had seemingly taking retribution by kidnapping Viscaria and Orion after his refusal, he thought their intentions had been clear.

But, he'd certainly missed the bigger picture, hadn't he...?

The Malfoys - the world, really - had been blaming the Vox Magi for all their ills, but what if the Vox Magi were a means-to-ends. The Vox Magi were fanatics in the eyes of the media and public, the big boogeyman causing senseless havoc.

But, what if, in the madness there were trickles of logical all tying together like nooses? The Blacks broke a lot of eggs to make an omelette and two birds and one stone was a favourite of theirs.

"...Mr Malfoy."

Berrow's idea came to mind, but it didn't quite work.

"Find them..." Lucius demanded, his voice liked knives slipping through his teeth. Rage flaring in his eyes, like he could burn her away at any instant. "Find them. Save them. Or, kiss your career and more goodbye." She stiffened, regarded him with distaste and unease. "Find them, and I'll give you riches-"

"Saving people is its own reward," Bones said, after a pause, giving him a hard look and he almost snorted. "If you don't think I won't do my best to save these children, I'm afraid you're quite ignorant of what type of person I am."

She was right about the latter part.

But, good intentions did not equal competence.

Lucius smiled, tightly at her. "You better, Madam Bones. You better," he said, clasping his hands behind his back and standing straighter. "We wouldn't want anyone questioning your skills. That would be a distraction."

If the Department for Magical Law Enforcement couldn't be trusted to do their jobs...

He would.

Bones' lips were pressed in a firm line. "Anyway. As this is an ongoing case, I trust you will not leak information to the public?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes.

Ah yes, the Ministry was trying to suppress information about the Vox Magi. The public couldn't become panicked; after all, if the Vox Magi could get someone as high as Mr Malfoy... Once was a fluke. Twice was damning. Millicent Bagnold needed all the votes she could get if she wanted to continue to be Minister for Magic.

He smiled an unkind smile.

That was why they kept sending Madam Bones instead of just Aurors, or even the head of the Auror Office. In theory, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had the power to make even the Malfoys bend backwards... but, that was just a theory.

He tucked that little bit of information away for later.

"Yes, yes," he drawled, waving his hand impatiently. "Shouldn't you get back to work?"

"I am working. Goodbye, Mr Malfoy..." She glanced to the side. "...Mrs Malfoy. We'll be in touch." Lucius turned his head, shocked to find the haggard form of his wife was there at the threshold of the door, who despite being silent was watching them like a hawk.

And, Bones just left, brushing past Narcissa with a faintly sympathetic look before practically slamming the door behind her.

Narcissa was paler than pale, hunched in the doorway and silent, her pale blonde hair drowning her bowed head. Her tear-shot eyes, stained by too many tears, were wide and alert, looking at him in a way he couldn't understand.

She looked so fragile.

He'd wrap his arms around her if he could move out of this bed.

Her lips parted, a tear tricking down her pale cheek. No sound came out of her mouth. She swallowed. "We..." She breathed, setting a thin lined as she stepped forward a little unsteadily. "We, we did this... we..."

"They did this. Not us."

It didn't matter either way, for the first time in a long time he needed a drink...

* * *

**29th July, 1987**

* * *

"...I heard what happened."

Lucius' eyes were sunken, but no less ice-cold. He didn't think he'd slept in a while now - it's not like he could sleep right now in his bed when Viscaria and Orion were nowhere to be seen at all for days. He'd sent many private eyes, bribed many pockets, taken suspects off the street for a little Q&amp;A before taking care of them.

And, yet it was like Viscaria and Orion...

He could even think of their names without rage.

...Viscaria and Orion had disappeared off the face of the earth as if they'd never existed. Yes, so far nobody had seen the blonde girl that smiled as she showed him terribly drawn pictures or the insipid, dour boy that looked at him so miserably sometimes Lucius wanted to cane him.

These hadn't been good days.

At times, increasing frequent times, he itched to hurt people badly.

Yesterday, he'd grabbed Arcturus Black by the scruff of his frail neck - it made him smile how he oh-so easily have snapped it - when the old cunt was leaving his hearing.

Shaking him and shaking him; yelling in fury at the man's face - that face donning invincible, impregnable eyes, as if the arrogant fool knew when a Muggle shitted and a Wizard drank a little too much than his Medi-Witch had prescribed because he believed himself just so above it all.

What really kicked him was how accusing they were, those orbs.

_'It's your fault. You should have known better.'_

That was what he saw when he saw those damn eyes.

Had security not dragged him off, he would have snapped the Black patriarch's neck right there and then. He'd have watched the surprise and flash of pain as the fool's eyes faded away.

He was glad that didn't happen. It would be a mistake to give Arcturus a quick death. To likely loose Viscaria and Orion as an aftermath of emotion, Lucius Malfoy was a creature of logic not senseless instinct, however justified.

Thankfully, he hadn't been put on probation.

The Ministry idiots had tried.

_"Oh dear."_

_Pity wetting their eyes like they cared._

_"Mr Malfoy, you'll have to be put on leave with full-pay!"_

_"Lucius, we shouldn't have overworked you at these trying times!"_

_"Lucius," they simpered. "Take a rest and gather your thoughts, just consider it, please...!"_

He wanted to murder the lot of them; ice the room with their rotting, decrepit corpses. Foolish, bureaucratic despots had no real power where he was concerned. If they had any real sense they'd have just gone back to flicking quills at their department ceiling instead of having the audacity to talk down to him.

Oh, they'd be dealt with.

Now, Lucius self-aware he might be bordering on homicidal. In fact, he had to admit one of the few things that was keeping his sanity besides the fact he couldn't be bother to go insane was the small victories he had made, the hope for victories and revenge.

The insufferable Geoffrey Berrow had kept to his word, mostly. Albert Greengrass and most of his other supporters were mostly out of the water - and, now, he'd found, surprisingly, the pink-dressed Umbridge calmly sipping sweet tea in his office.

Lucius' eye twitched. "Why are you here?"

"I could say you sound disappointed, Lucius? I'd thought you'd be happy to see a friend in your hour of need?" she said sweetly, giving him an admonishing look. "Sadly, the ladies and gentlemen who detained me made a mistake. Having a great knowledge of protocal, I decided to give them a helping hand in that regard."

"And, it served you well?" he drawled dryly.

"Yes, I think so. It served them very well, too," she remarked, her smile widening into her cup. "But, enough about me and their subsequent reprimand, how are you?"

He gave her a cold look. "You've heard, I see?" he said, his lip curling.

"You seem upset," she said, her voice honey soft as she gave him a pitying look. "I hope you're giving yourself some rest. Being chairman of the Hogwart's Board of Governors must be stressful..." She pouted. "I hope you're taking care of yourself. It would be a shame for you to have a tumble..."

Lucius smiled curtly. "Oh, don't worry about me..."

Umbridge shook her head, that damn sweet smile still fixed on her face. "Don't worry. I'm more than confident in your abilities. Despite what those sillywarts are saying behind your back, I believe in you." Lucius narrowed his eyes and she let out a surprised, girlish gasp. "You didn't know? Oh well, no need to worry yourself about that hogwash, Lucius..."

"Leave,"he snapped, having had enough of her troll-dung.

Umbridge set the saucer and the empty teacup on his desk, smiling at him. "You're upset. I'll come back later when you've calmed down," she said with honeycombed sympathy painted on her wrinkly hag of a face, standing up from her chair.

She swiftly left, giving him one last warning smile before she slipped through the door.

He stared at the clock, ticking away.

And, Umbridge was just the bitter icing of this battle...

* * *

**30th July, 1987**

* * *

Lucius scanned the reports.

Private Detectives weren't what what they used to be; their messy hand-writing mostly now resembled how a troll would write as opposed to an actual wizard or witch with a proper education.

Witnesses had only one 'n'!

Honestly, after this, he was going to really stress the importance of literacy tests at his next meeting with the rest of the Hogwarts Board of Governors...

The door opened with a small creak.

"Mr Malfoy, the files you requested," his secretary said, carefully placing them on his desk. He looked up at her, his mind just passingly noting her unusually-coiffed, strawberry blonde hair in relaxed curls and her green dress looking much better pressed than normal.

Lucius picked up the thick, brown file with the red seal, before placing them on his desk. "Yes, thank you," he said dismissively, steepling his fingers.

She turned way from him, before just turning right back. "May I ask why you needed the exact copies of the D.M.L.E's files on the Vox Magi bombings as well?" she asked hesitantly, her voice going a little nasal due to likely her nervousness.

He glanced up. "No, you may not, Ms Blishwick."

"Ah..." she said with her lips wide open, nodding her head and closing them. She paused, glancing at him. "...It's just... the Aurors were rather... suspicious at your sudden interest."

"What did you tell them?" Lucius asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Safety precautions. I told them that you needed them, um, in order produce a no-go zone for students during their visits across the year and next," she said dutifully, smiling a little nervously.

"There's the excuse that will make you sleep at night. Take it or leave it," he drawled, giving her a look. "Now. You're dismissed, go home. I assume you have some sort of life you can distract yourself with before I require you again."

His secretary blinked, before nodding. "Oh... ah, of course, sir."

"Before you leave, lock the door and make a notice that I do not want to be disturbed," Lucius said, smiling tightly.

"Yes sir," she said, looking a little out-of-sorts.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Lucius practically ripped open the file, making the papers, the clipped crime scene photos, maps and diagrams spill on his desk in a mess.

His eyes and fingers roved over everything, scrutinising the details.

There must be a needle in the haystack, something that could tip him off to any sort of lead. There had to be movements, shuffling, stains from mopped up messes - the Blacks wouldn't just walk in and blow up a toyshop, they'd get others to do their dirty work, slip the Galleons and watch through a spyglass with a goblet of wine in their bony hands.

Like that damn nanny Galster.

He should of fucking seen it before.

Frame their enemies and victims as blood-traitors or whatever and that would be enough questions asked when their bodies turned up. The files said one of their victims was Tripe an advocate for pureblood rights and guess who'd voted against Arcturus' reforms two years ago? Yep.

Hah, it wasn't even like the Blacks hadn't used criminals before. Their whole tree was practically. Extremists like the Vox Magi wouldn't have been such a huge jump; just enlist people with strong, moral and feed them a drip of half-truths and lies so they could carry out your dirty work like good little soldiers.

He sneered.

The clock ticked and ticked. Two ticking clocks, really, he was sure he'd stuffed one he'd received years ago as a gift from who-cares in one of his office cabinets.

Now, re-focusing, his eyes glowered at the papers.

The smoking wand was in there and he'd find it however long it took...

He must of spent hours there, his back certainly felt it. Perhaps, in time, he'd spend days. Straining his eyes as his eyes focused on everything they could, trying to pick out something.

Using his wand, he flicked a red pin at another location on the map.

He underlined sentences.

He scribbled things out.

He skimmed from lines to lines.

He flipped from piece to piece.

Never knowing how far away he was from the damn smoking wand or if there even really was one to begin with...

* * *

**AN: To the guest review that called Orion a "weakling", "a pushover" and "disgrace to the Blacks"... yes, yes, he is kinda that - the Black certainly feel that way and he's a child and hasn't really had good guardians.**


	17. Chapter 16: Bereft

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 16: Bereft**

* * *

**1st August, 1987**

* * *

Reluctant as he may be, he met them at their estate.

It made sense. It was private... well, more private than the listening walls of the Ministry, but that wasn't saying much. What was saying a lot was the pity practically wafting from Geoffrey.

Lucius' eyes narrowed.

Meanwhile, Adona's face was like stone. It was respect. "...I'm sorry about Viscaria and Orion. Darius is distraught," she said, tapping the cigar between her fingers, sprinkling golden ash onto the floor.

Her husband nodded grimly. "It's a real tragedy."

Restraining the urge to curse Geoffrey right there, he gave them a thin smile. "Thank you for your condolences. If only they could tell me where my daughter and ward were..." he drawled, nursing his drink because he wouldn't take a sip.

"Of course, if there's anything we can do to help you... I'd do it in a heartbeat." There was a knowing glint in his eyes. "In fact, I almost feel partly responsible. I'm the one who was holding you up with that magic oath while your daughter and sort-of-child..." Lucius restrained himself from correcting him. "...were being kidnapped by possible psychos. Awkward."

"Yes... anyway, I need your help," Lucius said, looking at him dryly.

"Of course, of course. Whatever you need, Lucius. A shoulder to cry on, a friend to hug you at night, a new broomstick. I'm your man," the dark-haired wizard said, patting his shoulder.

Lucius' eye twitched. "I need information. My contacts have been useless so far and I'm considering firing them all..." He paused, flexing his hand and giving them a facile smile. "I would appreciate your assistance. It's be quite beneficial for you, but you already knew that," he drawled.

"Benefits are par for the course, but I don't think you've ever asked us to help you in a personal matter, before?" Adonia said thoughtfully, glancing at her husband with a slight smile.

Geoffrey nodded. "It is kind of strange."

There was a pause, a grating one.

"So..." Lucius pressed irritably.

"Oh, of course. I'll lend you an ear." He smiled, while his wife just rolled her eyes.

"I don't understand why I have to be here. Isn't this normally a boys club?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "I think the last time you've said more than three words to me was Easter. Why do you need me?"

Lucius gave a look. "You have contacts...?"

She gave him a doe-like look. "Do I?"

Oh, her petty sentiment. "You have friends in high places. You're head of the Department of Magical Transportation."

"I'll admit a rack up a lot of free holiday time and have a lot of paperwork. What do you want me to particularly do? Check to see if two children went on holiday to France with a creepy person? I doubt it's that easy," she snorted.

Lucius paused. "...You honestly don't see it, do you?"

"What? That you're not telling us anything because you don't trust anyone?" she asked, looking at him carefully.

He smiled coldly at her. "My children are 'unlucky'. The Vox Magi, cowards who hide in the shadows, have it out for me. A lot of people do." The Berrows' narrowed their eyes at him. "Yes, I have my theories about them. The point is: where do they come from? What holes do they slither in and out of? People can be very lazy."

"Yes, I know I can capitalise on the fact that wizards hate walking. My point is that how can I tell who is a person of interest?" She paused. "You seem awfully calm for someone whose children may have been kidnapped by terrorists."

"Interesting choice of words... I just know that there's the prize and the insurance," he said vaguely. He wondered if he should tell them about the Blacks, but he couldn't risk them getting cold feet or worse... "There's a pattern. At most of these bombings a series of petty crimes rise up around the area, which is why I need Geoffrey's ears in the gutter..."

Adonia raised an eyebrow. "And, my ears?"

"The person responsible for the kidnapping, I have a feeling that they are connected to the crime families, to the Vox Magi. There is something there. I want you to look for people going to places they shouldn't be, anyone of note, around the time of the kidnapping," he said, trying to push down his desperation.

She paused. "The International Co-op and Magical Transport may have something if there's any international business and if its a very mobile one." She let out a long suffering sigh. "That's a long list. This is going to be very hard. I hope this is worth it."

There was sound, the front door bell was being rung. It made them pause.

Geoffrey frowned a little and Lucius felt tense, his hand twitching to his wand.

"Is that Greengrass? I thought he wasn't coming?" Adonia said, looking concerned.

"No, he was. His cute secretary passed me a note when I was leaving, did I forget to mention?" Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders, ignoring the glares. "I'm not surprised he's late either. The Wizengamot is in a mess, I should know, court documents have been... 'misplaced', again, and since it's to do with Goblins I was dragged into this mess," he said, his tone becoming very mysterious, a twinkle in his eyes.

She snorted.

Lucius rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, I'm late." Arthur Greengrass grey hair was tussled, his glasses were half-askew and his grey, normally-sleek robes were crinkled. "Administrations is a nightmare. Case files completely puffed out existence... Just like that, gone," he said, throwing his hands up and letting out a sighed, looking at them with tired hazel eyes.

"Sounds fun," Geoffrey remarked.

"Trust me, it isn't." The grey-haired wizard turned his gaze to Lucius, his eyes softening. "...I'm, uh, sorry about what happened." The condolence was awkward, especially as the man fiddled about, readjusting his glasses. "Terrible thing. I hope they catch the bastards who did it, Lucius."

"Thank you." He didn't even try to sound grateful. "Now, I suppose you're wondering why you're here?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Not really. You want something, my resources, follow the parchment," he gave a cursory look at everyone here. "The fact we're all gathered here like we're a book club... your children, right?"

"Yes..." Lucius smiled tightly. "You see, I've been checking through the records and case files. Check out the legal specification of the account 'Rote'Spinn', despite not being register as well anything beyond vague procrastination, there is a decent amount of annual, 'legal' transactions... they stop dead on the date Viscaria and Orion were kidnapped."

Arthur frowned. "On the exact date?"

"Give or take a few days," Lucius said, shrugging his shoulder.

Arthur held the bridge of his nose. "Why do I have a feel that this is going to be a lot extra-hour work?" The man massaged his temple. "...Do you know where the money is coming from, what Department its associated with, or am I just chasing dust in the wind...? Was it a monthly transaction? Did it tell you anything about what type of legal and dubious channels-"

"My secretary has the details, ask her," Lucius said, waving his hand dismissively.

Geoffrey frowned. "Are you sure it's wise to trust your secretary with this?"

"Well, it's either that or handle his own dirty linen. I imagine the latter would be unbearable," the dark-haired witch said, her voice dripping with condescension but there was an underlying concern to her voice.

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Trust me, I'm a people person. She's trustworthy."

Arthur 'humphed'.

"Hey man, whatever makes your broomstick fly. Just remember to keep paying her well or else she'll your story to the papers for a pretty Galleon," Geoffrey said seriously, while the man's wife just rolled her eyes.

"I'll keep that in mind," Lucius said dryly.

* * *

**2nd August, 1987**

* * *

Her shaking hand smoothed out the crease in the cloth.

"Narcissa?"

"Yes, it's nice we could arrange this... especially with what's happened," Narcissa said this, but instead of gratitude all she felt was a numbness. She felt like her legs could collapse any minute.

Phylis Winikus smiled. "Do you think Nerys and Draco are getting on? I mean, my daughter can be a little bit..." She paused, frowning. "...Narcissa, are you sure you're alright?" she said softly, putting a hesitant on her shoulder. "We don't have to do this if you don't want," she said, retracting her hand she noticed Narcissa's sideways look.

Narcissa swallowed. "No, no, we've been preparing for this event for weeks. I-I'm not going to cancel it, I'm not," she said, beginning to reshuffle the napkins. "There's a lot to do. Now, I-I need to get working before I-" she broke off, covering her mouth with her hand to strangle a sob.

"Maybe we should sit down, Narcissa?" Phylis said, raising arms up placatingly.

"I don't need to sit down." She snorted. "I've been sitting around for days."

"Okay..." She paused, looking for the words to say. "Narcissa, why don't we take a break?" Narcissa gave her a look. "I know, but it isn't for a few hours and we've done nearly everything! Although, I don't know why we could just let the House-Elves do all the work?"

Narcissa sighed in defeat. "They lack the intuition."

Phylis smiled, pulling out a chair out and gesturing for her to sit down.

Narcissa reluctantly obliged, dusting off the chair before sitting down. Honestly, Phylis was quite overbearing. The other witch flicked her wand and another chair at the far end came dancing towards them, to which she sat down on.

"Now, tell me. Let it out, it won't do anyone any good if you bottle it up inside,lest of all you," she said.

"..Right. What is the point of telling you things you already know?" Narcissa said, giving her a blithe look. "My daughter has been abducted..." Her voice wavered. She swallowed. "And, my ward as well... I'm not doing this." Frustration crossing her face, Narcissa stood up. "This isn't Hogwarts. I'm not 'talking out' my feelings, degrading myself so you can-" she broke off.

"So, I can what, Narcissa?" the other witch said, looking a little defensive. She seemed to soften when Narcissa didn't deign to answer such a silly question. "Narcissa, I know what it's like to lose someone," she added, standing up and putting a patronizing hand on her shoulder.

"I haven't lost anyone. They were taken," she snapped, shrugging her 'friend's' hand off. "That isn't the same. It wasn't my fault." Phylis flinched. "They're out there, they're out there and I-I..." She closed her mouth.

She shouldn't be spilling her secrets to a 'friend'.

Phylis gave her a pitying glance. "Narcissa, I don't know what you're talking about...? Everyone needs a shoulder to cry every once and while..."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd very much like that. Me, crying on your shoulder, like a child," Narcissa said, feeling the heat rising in her face. woman's audacity. "The great Mrs Malfoy, telling secrets that you can used against her. You would pretty good about your meager self." She gave her a repulsed look. "Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

"I think you're lonely," she said, her eyes cooling.

"What?" Narcissa snapped, glaring.

The brown-haired witch met her gaze. "What I do know is that you never talk to anyone, Narcissa. I don't think I've ever seen you open up to anyone after all these years."

"My husband-"

Phylis snorted. "Come on, Narcissa. Not another excuse. My husband..." She frowned. "...My husband made a tactless remark last night. This time it was about you and how 'Lucius must be the busiest House-Elf in the Ministry'. I think it's telling that even he's has noticed that your husband is... little obsessed with his work, especially as of late..."

"That's how he deals with grief..." She rolled her eyes. "Parchment, ink and plots. Add a few glasses of Firewhiskey, to be kind, and you have a father who cares more than he knows." Unable to help it, a bitter chuckle bubbled in her throat. "It's funny..." she said, shaking her head. "Not as funny as his other proclivities..."

Phylis frowned. "'Funny'...?"

Narcissa let out of a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "I gave birth to that girl, I raised her. Lucius doesn't even know her," she said bitterly. "I'm the one..." She licked her lips. "I'm the one who, who... he doesn't even know any of them..." She couldn't find the words, and her throat was dry.

"Are you alright?"

"No, no, I'm not alright. He's gone off, he's left me here to deal with all this." Narcissa threw up her hands in exasperation. "I'm the one whose looking after Draco, the one whose making sure that the manor, the manor..." She felt a sick sensation in her stomach; she began to idly fold one of the nearest napkins. "...Why do you care?"

The brown-haired witch frowned. "...I care because we're friends."

"I wasn't born yesterday, Phylis. Please try again." Suspicion made itself comfy in Narcissa's mind. Honestly, the witch had hardly seemed interested in her problems before.

"...I care, Narcissa. I care too much," Phylis laughed and Narcissa arched an eyebrow, concerned. "It's because I know,_ I know_. Not all of it, but I think I can... understand what I don't." She gave her a searching look. "I'm not going to beat around the bush. My husband is a cad."

Narcissa blinked. "Oh?"

"It's not surprising. Every day he likes me less and less. He didn't like me much to begin with..." She paused, taking a breath and then snorted. "He thought I was pretty, he liked my smile..." She showed her pearly teeth, too white for it to be natural. "...and my family was well-respected. Wasn't enough." She sniffled, looking in pain.

Narcissa furrowed her brow. "I'm very sorry, Phylis... but what does this have to do with my situation?" she asked, giving her a guarded look and wishing this conversation would just end.

"I'm trying to tell you... I'm trying to tell that life is fleeting. My life... I pretended to rebel, to be different but I was too scared to follow through. In the end, I ended up doing exactly what my parents wanted, marrying the proper partner and becoming a mother." She looked angry. "Then, I made more mistakes. I latched onto family like a leech and now I don't have a life beyond them."

Narcissa gave her a confused look. "...I see?"

"Do you think that doing what others wanted is the way to live life?"

"And what does this have to do with me?" Narcissa said sharply.

Phylis' brown furrowed with irritation. "Narcissa. You're miserable, who can blame you, but you're even more miserable when you distract yourself from reality," she sighed, shaking her head. "You know that Lucius shouldn't get away with abandoning you like this, but he does. You should be banding together, but you're falling apart, like always-"

"Look. Phylis, me and Lucius-"

But, the other was incensed. "Are the 'perfect' couple?"

Narcissa smiled in a way that she knew irritated her. "You ought not to speak of things that do not concern you. I appreciate your concern, but it is misplace. I think I understand what you're trying to do, you misunderstand my situation." She raised her nose in the air. "Perhaps, you should do less projecting and put your house in order...?"

Phylis looked like she'd be struck. "Narcissa...?"

Before anyone could say anything more they'd probably later regret, the door burst open. Two children came skidding into the room, one in bright pink and the other a green sweater and beige trousers, both looking very out of breathe.

"Mum, she broke my castle!" Draco yelled indignantly,.

"No! Mum, Mrs Malfoy, he's a liar!" Nerys snapped, looking very out of breathe and pink in the face.

Phylis and Narcissa were between groaning and chuckling.

* * *

Lucius was walking down the corridor, quite leisurely.

He was in no rush. The Board of Governors could wait, they always did, so patiently. It was delightful. An amused smile curled on his lips as he waited for the lift to come rushing towards him.

There was a glint of grey. "Lucius. Fancy seeing you here so late," Arthur said, looking especially like an owl today with his wispy eyebrows. "I'm going an office party on Level four. One of the girls is leaving. Delphine, I think."

Lucius tapped his cane against the floor twice. "That so."

"I looked into it. Sneaky bastards. You'll wanna hear this," Arthur whispered, leaning in closer. "I hope you can make time."

The lift chose to arrive at that moment and unfortunately it wasn't empty. The golden grille clattered open and there was a stout, fish-faced witch dressed in all turquoise standing in centre. She smiled at them, the wrinkles of her mouth creasing, as she moved aside for them to get in.

Lucius eyed her for a split moment, before getting in. Arthur followed.

The lift began to descend.

There was absolute silence. The only noise was the jolt of the lift and the cool female voice announcing each level. It was grating on Lucius last nerve as he hoped the next stop would be when this blue elephant left.

_"__Level Six, Department of Magical Transportation, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office and Apparition Test Centre__,"_ said the voice of the lift.

She stepped off.

"Bleeding finally," Arthur said under his breath, not having Lucius' restraint.

The witch glanced back at them, her brow scrunched in confusion, but the doors closed and the lift began to descend.

"Maybe not so loud next time...?" Lucius almost hissed, making Arthur go a little beet red. "Well, what is it? What do you have? Chop, chop. Your stop is coming up soon, it'll look suspicious if you don't get off."

The lift stopped at Level 5, but nobody got on.

"Ah, yes. Well, you see. I was talking to Cuthbert Mockridge, he owes me..." Lucius tapped his cane impatiently. "Alright. So, the numbers don't add up, especially legally. Some people in the Ministry are getting a little too much, even for Ministry standards. Your co-worker Madam Parangyo for one, and a Ms V. Crinkle."

He narrowed his eyes. "Who is Crinkle?"

"Apparently works in the Public Information service. Her performance record says she's a keen worker. Funny thing is, there's no hide or hair of her. There hasn't even been a Crinkle working that position since 1974. Must be a 'mistake', right?" he said knowingly.

"Look, there's an array of accounts in one package. Half the people are fictitious as far as I can tell, no record of Adelaide Fortner, Venus Whortleberry. The thing is, the Gringott's vault that has a lot of money going in and out is Madam Parangyo's, normally you wouldn't notice because the amount taken out is always replaced by the same amount two days later, but there are a few Galleons off..."

"She's pocketing some?" Lucius said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

The owlish wizard huffed. "Well, at least someone is-"

_"Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating the Beast, Being and Spirit Division, Goblin Liaison Office, Centaur Liaison Office and Office of Misinformation."_

"Goodbye," Lucius said dryly.

Arthur nodded gruffly, stepping out of the lift.

Lucius ultimately ended up deciding not to go to the meeting. He wasn't quite sure if he would be able to suppress the urge to rip into her head while sitting across from her in that meeting full to the brim with melodramatic do-gooders and layabouts.

He opted to go straight to his office.

If Parangyo wanted her comeuppance, she'd have to come to him. Which she would.

"...Madam Umbridge wants to make an appointment with Mr Malfoy." It was a female voice he heard as he turned the corner, quite a high-pitched one. "She's not one to be kept waiting."

It looked like his secretary and Umbridge's were facing off.

How amusing.

Jacoba smiled tightly, readjusting the parchment in her typewriter. "I'll see what I can do, Lavinia. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

The brown-haired witch in the pink pencil-dress and matching, fluffy cardigan frowned. "Thank you, Jacoba," she said, completely insincerely. "I hope your best is better than last time. It'd be inexcusable for Madam Umbridge to feel as if she was being left out considering her... generous contributions."

"Of course, is there anything else I can help you with today?" Jacoba said politely, clearly wanting the other witch to leave.

Lucius considered ducking behind an archway and letting this play out, but it wasn't like he couldn't handle Umbridge.

He coughed. Both witches turned to look at him, neither looking particularly surprised.

"Mr Malfoy, sir," his secretary greeted dutifully, before beginning to type again.

Umbridge's secretary gave him a cautious but respectful look. "...Mr Malfoy, I'm not sure how much you've heard, sir, but Madam Umbridge is eager to speak with you... on certain matters which require your attention." She took a hesitant step towards him, her white heels dragging on the marble floor.

"Tell Madam Umbridge that she'll get all she wants and more. She'd do well to remember that before she starts getting unsettled," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "But..." His lip curled. "... If she really feels so _worried_ and _jittery_, I'm sure I can arrange something for next week to calm her nerves," he added, not even try to keep the mocking from his tone.

Although, to be fair to Umbridge, he barely could remember what he'd promised her for her co-operation.

Umbridge's secretary frowned. "I'll relay the message, Mr Malfoy."

"Oh, let's hope she doesn't kill the messenger..." Jacoba muttered wryly under her breath, earning a couple of looks. "...Oh, did I say something? Sorry, I was remembering a novel I read," she said lamely, waving her hand and going back to typing what was likely gibberish.

"...Uh, yes. Hmm. I'll tell Madam Umbridge that," the brown-haired witch said, but was still awkwardly standing there.

He snorted. "Well, if that's all, shouldn't you get going?"

She blinked. "Yes, yes, so-I apologise, goodbye," she said, swiftly turning on her heel and walking out the room to what likely would not be the most pleasant encounter.

Lucius turned his gaze to his secretary. "I expect whatever you're doing to be done by the afternoon, Jacoba."

"Yes, sir."

He gave a curt nod, before pushing the door open to his office and entering.

His office was a little more trussled up than usual. Desk was had papers and parchment littering it, some stuffed in its draws. He'd ordered even the House-Elves not be permitted in there when he was not present. It made him have to suffer seeing their decrepit ghoulish faces, but at least there wasn't a chance something important would be misplace.

"Ma'am, sorry, you can't go in there...!"

Lucius looked up at his secretary's muffled exclamation.

The door to swung open and Madam Parangyo came striding through with a folder pressed against her breast. She wore a multi-coloured checkered dress with black fur jacket. There was a pearl necklace looped around her long neck like tinsel and her hair was braided back into two tight buns on her head. She looked more than pleased with herself.

His fretting secretary followed, looking quite scandalized. "Sorry, sir. I tried to-"

"That'll be all, Jacoba. I'll take it from here. Shut the door... do not disturb," he said, flicking closing the folder he'd been scouring, and leaning forward as he looked at Parangyo coldly.

Jacoba looked hesitant, before stepping back. She paused one last time, before leaving the room.

"Charming secretary. She tried to say you were 'doing something important'?" Parangyo said as soon as the door clicked shut. "I thought: 'that's strange, because I haven't even given you the Educational Reform #511 yet', I have to see this." She narrowed her dark brown eyes at him, her lip curling. "What are you doing?"

"Do you want to sit down?" He gestured towards the chair across from him. She gave him a cool look, before sitting down on the chair with an irritated look. "...What do you want, Parangyo?"

She glared at him. "I want? I want you to do your job. You're not and we are being stilted because of it," she snapped, practically slamming her hands on his desk. "No legislation can go through without your final seal of approval, Lucius. If you don't get a hold of yourself, we'll be under review for lack of progress by the Minister herself!"

He sighed, giving her a look. "I didn't realise it was that serious."

"You don't care to realise a lot of things, doesn't mean they won't royally screw us over by clogging up our workflow," Parangyo said, putting her hands on her hip and looking none-too-please as typical.

"Just take my stamp," he said, rolling his eyes.

She blinked. "What?"

"Take it. It's here." He gesture to the ornate, silver stamp on his desk. "Use it."

"...That's forgery," she replied, giving him a look, but her hand twitched.

He snorted. "Is that were you start moralising, Parangyo?," he drawled, leaning back in his chair as she gave him a surprised look.

"What does that mean?"

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Nothing."

"Just get it done."

"Oh, by the way, stupefy," he said flippantly, flicking his wand.

Parangyo's eyes widened. Before she could draw her wand, she was already hit by the red streak of light. She collapsed off her chair and onto the floor with a thud, the files she had been holding clattering to the floor.

The door opened, making him freeze, whipping his wand around and pointing it at the door.

Jacoba blinked, almost dropping the files in her hands. "Oh, oh my," she gasped, putting her hand to her mouth as she took in the scene before her.

"Shut the door, fool," Lucius hissed, lowering his wand a little.

Almost like clockwork, his secretary slammed it shut behind. "...Mr Malfoy..." She took a hesitant step forward, eyeing him and the heap that was Madam Parangyo. "Sir... what, what are you doing?" she said, scrunching up her eyebrow.

"Testing a theory..." He glared at her. "I told you 'do not disturb'!"

She paused, biting her lip as she looked at him. "Oh, oh, that was a signal, wasn't it?" she said nervously, stopping short and looking very awkward. "I didn't realise... Sorry, sir."

"What is it?"

"It's just... I need you to sign these," she said, shuffling the files in her hands. "They're the collaborative project with Madam Umbridge. Her secretary just dropped them off..." She paused. "...Her secretary also said to pass on a message: Madam Umbridge wants to meet with you, something about some getting a 'reward' for their efforts...?" she said, giving him a strange look.

"I'll sign them later." Lucius sighed in exasperation. "Just leave. Don't you have a job to do or has someone stopped paying you?"

Jacoba nodded, swallowing. "Of course, of course, sorry."

As soon as the door shut, Lucius caste a silencing charm and locking spell on the door (which he probably should have done earlier). Pointing his wand at the unconscious Parangyo, he levitated her onto a chair and binding her.

A moment later, the witch groaned lightly.

She shuffled, blinking dumbly.

He'd better get to it before she completely came to.

_Legilimens._

He delved into her mind and there was surprisingly not much resistance...

_"Ona, what are you doing?" Parangyo chuckled._

_The little girl in the blue dress smiled brightly. "I'm playing with my friend Ade. He's invisible..."_

No, that wasn't it...

_"What do you mean, dear?" she said, her voice clipped._

_"Oh, you heard me, Busara. You heard me!"_

No...

_"Where's daddy?" the little girl asked._

_"I don't know. I don't care to know," Parangyo said. "It's best you learn the same."_

He knew there was dirt somewhere... he shifted through the oceans on memory...

_"Busara, what do we say?" the man said._

_"Thank you. Are you going to return the favour?"_

_"...What do you want me to do?" Parangyo asked carefully._

_Arcturus smiled thinly. "Just keep an eye out. An eye on Lucius Malfoy. And, our associate with check in with you every week or so."_

_"Is that all?"_

_"You'll be more than compensated for your work," he said, somewhat amused._

_"Over-compensated, considering how simple it all is," Cassiopeia pitched in, a wicked smile creasing her face. "I bet even a trained monkey could pull one over on Lucius, the silly man..."_

_Arcturus tutted. "Now, now, Cassie, it does not well to underestimate our enemies. That's how, however weak they are, they win."_

_"This isn't a war, Arty. It's nothing more than rodent control," Cassiopeia said, rolling her eyes._

_Get out._

_"Yes, I'll to it. The monetary compensation is more than enough," __Parangyo cut in, __irritated at their banter. Didn't they realise she was a very busy woman? "I thank you for this opportunely," she said, knowing she was probably going to regret this later down the line-_

Lucius dug deeper...

_It was a boring job._

_All she did was tell them what Lucius, the peacock twit, was doing. She'd even told them what lunch he'd been having once. Too think being a spy would be so boring, but at least the compensation-_

_GET OUT._

_-the compensation was helping-_

_GET OUT. GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!_

Lucius lurched back.

It looked like Parangyo had regained consciousness. "I will ruin you for this. I will ruin y-you," she hissed, glaring at him with hatred as she struggled against her invisible bounds.

He couldn't help but smirk "Let's hope you remember that promise. Obliviate."

Her eyes glazed untied her with his wand, watching as her body relaxed in the chair.

She blinked and blinked dumbly. "What? What was that?"

"You were just calling me a layabout, I believe." Lucius kept his tone amused, leaning back in his chair with an arched eyebrow.

She narrowed her eyes, scrunching up her brow. "...Ah..." She let out, frowning. "...Well, you are. Your inaction has been slowing down our progress. At this rate, there'll be an inquiry."

"How horrifying."

"Lucius, I'm not heartless. I know what happened with your family... maybe, you should take a few days off?" Parangyo said, her eyes 'softening' for a brief moment. "It wouldn't do having you overworked and going out of your mind-"

"I'll get it done. Just leave it here," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Fine."

She stopped at the door, tilting herself back towards him. "It was nice talking to you, Lucius. It's good to see we're on the same page, even if it's not the same book," she said, smiling at him like an 'old friend'.

As soon as he was sure Parangyo was gone, he stood up and walked out the room. His secretary who was dutifully typing at her desk. "I hope you weren't too disturbed by what happened in there, were you?" he said idly, after making sure there weren't any more unwelcome visitors lurking around the corner.

Jacoba's finger stopped an inch from the typewriter's key. "Oh, um..." She gave him a strained smile. "Uh, what exactly happened in there, Mr Malfoy?" she said, not looking like she expect an answer.

Lucius almost smiled. "That's the spirit."

"No, no, really what happened in there?"

He rolled his eyes, sighing in disappointment. "Nothing of concern, least of all to you." She looked like she'd been slapped for a moment. "Would you kindly annotate and type up this legislation nonsense Parangyo wanted?"

"Of course, sir."

* * *

**4th August, 1987**

* * *

She was at her wits end.

"So, where's Viscaria and Orion?" Draco asked for the seventh time today, this time as she was scowering his shelf for a book to read him.

Narcissa smiled weakly back at him, her fingers grazing against the spines. "I don't know, poppet."

"They always do this all the time. I bet they just want attention, they always want that!" he said accusingly, huffing and folding his little arms.

"They don't," she said a little too harshly, before softening at her little man's taken aback look. "Oh, Draco, it's not that they want this bad stuff to happen to them. Nobody wants bad stuff to happen to them. It just happens, as well as the good, especially to important people like us..." She swallowed, trying to keep up a smile. "Hah, I guess everyone's just jealous of us."

"Why not me? I'm important," he whinged, looking at her with his wide eyes.

"Of course you are. You're just lucky too, very lucky," she said softly, sitting down on his bed and brushing a strand of blond hair from his face. "I only wish this family as a whole could share more of that luck these past few months."

Her son paused for a moment, biting his lip. "...Will they be okay?"

"Of course, they will be. Of course, they will," she said more to herself than him.

Draco looked at her. "How do you know?"

"I..." She paused, frowning. "I know because they have to be..." she said, swallowing down a sob and looking at her son with the most reassuring eyes she could muster. "Besides, they've been through this before, they were fine..." she tried to add dismissively.

Her son snorted. "They were stuck in the crazy ward for months..." He looked away. "...And, Viscaria came back even worse."

Narcissa frowned. "Viscaria?"

"Yeah, mum. I thought she was unbearable before, but now she's horrible," Draco said, shaking his head as gripped his covers tighter.

She gave him a patient look. "Draco, Viscaria was having a difficult time, I don't think you fully understand." Touching his shoulder, she smiled kindly. "Viscaria has been through a lot, more than she ever should have, and she's just been having trouble dealing with that," she said softly.

He scowled. "I understand. She's crazy."

"Draco, that's not a nice thing to say about your sister!" Narcissa snapped, feeling indignation welling up inside her as she retracted her hand as if burned. Honestly, why couldn't these children just get along? They were family.

"Well, it's true, mother!" Draco snapped, being stubborn.

"It isn't Draco. I understand that Viscaria's been different, but she's not a monster," she said, the words almost tripping over themselves.

Draco gave her a confused look. "I never said she was a monster. She's just a terrible sister."

Narcissa paused. "Yes, yes. I thought you had, my mistake, dear," she said, pushing up a smile as she stood up, swiftly walking back over to the bookshelf and picking out the first book her hands blindly grabbed for. "...Oh, how about..." She scrunched up her brow. "...Tales of the... Ru, Ruze? Whatever a strange name," she said, pausing for a moment.

"Oh, that one. I haven't read that in ages," Draco said, a nostalgic grin on his face.

She paused, thoughtfully, flipping it over to read the blurb that was written in yellow ink. "_'Yearning for a home, a lost princess decides to make one in an old forest called Himmel Bent. Only in time to realise that the forest is not what it seems and paradise is far stranger word for heaven than it is hell when the Green Man becomes her friend...'_" She frowned. "It sounds a little... mature."

"Mum. I'm a big boy," he whinged.

She caved and she regretted it. By the ninth page she'd slammed it shut and thrown it in the bin (much to Draco's anger), the little book had become unbearably strange and disturbing despite its veil of childishness.

What kind of person read this kind of dribble to a child?

Oh, where was Miss Galster now? She'd kill her.

* * *

**5th August, 1987**

* * *

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "What have you and your husband gathered?"

Adonia frowned, watching as he took a long glug of his drink. "I think you'll see I worked quite hard for what you asked," she said, arching a delicate eyebrow. "I looked at the Floo-Records and the case files you managed to acquire. A certain number of big fishes may be able to help you."

He smiled tightly and raised another goblet of Schletters Fine Whisky, downing it completely. "And, who are you going to direct me to...?"

She blinked. "That's the main question... possibly," she said slowly, taking a puff of her cigarette. "All I know is the Red Hornet has been buzzing about the most these past months." He frowned at the vagueness and bad pun. "They said she's the one to talk to about... moving people around," she added, giving him a cautious look.

He narrowed his eyes. "Oh really?"

"Allegedly, she mainly operates in Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley mostly. I don't really have any data on her international activities besides the names of the countries like Italy and France, but I don't think she's too big there." She sighed. "I can't really tell you how, or even if, she imported the Erkling. International Co-op and Creature Regulations are being very unhelpful on that front."

"How do I find this 'Red Hornet'?" he cut to the chase.

"My husband's source told me to look for a blonde woman called 'Serafina'..." She chuckled. "...In the - I'll give you three guesses - the red district." She rolled her eyes. "...Apparently, she has information. I'd take that with a grain of Doxy... She's an unofficial informant for the D.M.L.E, although not their best apparently," she said derisively.

He raised an eyebrow. "Sounds too easy."

"Hopefully it is."

Lucius narrowed his eyes, picking up on something that set him on edge. "You've been sitting on this for some time, haven't you?" he said coldly, flexing his fist stiffly. "What's your angle? You know more than you're letting on-"

"Do you have an proof on that?" She practically blew smoke in his face. His eye twitched at that and it took all his strength to not draw his wand or hit her for a start. "I don't think that's your main concern now. If you're half the father you claim to be, you'd rushing through that door in a dive of faith," she said, glaring at him.

After a moment's silence, Lucius roughly did up the buttons of his black trench-coat of fine, wool-tweed. "I better get going."

She frowned, softening a little. "You're going by yourself?"

"I can handle myself..." he said, giving her a dark look.

He wasn't weak.

He had been a Death-Eater after all.

* * *

**A.N. I kind of wanted to fill in the gaps with this new chapter. I've been revising this chapter, it just seemed a little rough around the edges.**


	18. Chapter 17: Red Hornet

**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important. Also don't own the Madonna song either.**

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 17: Red Hornet**

* * *

_She smiled as the soft, cool creamy flavour touched her tongue._

_So sweet it made her vomit._

* * *

**5th August, 1987**

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was in the mud.

Although he did not look it. He'd disguised his most defining features, his dark robes thick and his hood obscuring his face further. It wouldn't do to be recognised and end up on the next issue of the Daily Prophet.

Witches mostly in low-cut dresses, corset, glittering leather and strings. They were shamelessly showed off their assets; high-heels that looked ridiculously too high. It wasn't just witches, wizards from the more boyish stood further back in equally ridiculous get up, in their dragon-hide shorts, their ripped and worn trousers, open-buttoned tops, jackets and chains.

All of the vagrants, reeking of desperation, with caressing arms would cart equally pathetic wizards and some witches off to dark alleys, inside drab or dimly lit hovel or Merlin knew. They were a sad story not worth telling.

He slipped the photo of a grinning Viscaria, Draco and Orion back in his pocket.

He hoped this wasn't for nothing.

Absent-mindedly gripping his cane a little tighter and pulling up his collar, he began to walk down the uneven street; confident in his step, a few curious eyes latched onto him - no doubt, they noticed his effortless prestige, no doubt making plans to facilitate him...

No luck there, of course. He was a happily taken man.

"Come on, Mister! I'm a good girl!"

"I'm durty. I'll be doing anyt'ing for a few knuts!"

"Hey! Don't shove me!"

Roughly brushing past those who'd tried, leaving them open-mouthed and frustrated, he continued on his way. He sneered at the thought that any wizard or witch would fall for those pitches; the prostitutes weren't very good at selling themselves despite their job prescription. It was likely the lack of intellectual aptitude, most had failed Hogwarts after all.

Then, something caught his eye.

There was an approaching, almost-orange witch in a golden and green, glittering sequinned dress and purple shawl. Under her pointed hat, her blonde hair was a mess. Her blue eyes were confident and there was an easy, almost-manic smile spreading her red lipstick. She swayed her hips somewhat jerkily, exaggerated and, coupled with those flashy, red heels, like a spindle.

'_Blonde and slutty'_, he noted dryly. If her name was Serafina, that'd be tick on all fronts. "...Red Hornet. You know of her... Serafina?" he said when she was a foot from him, glancing around to make sure nobody was listening.

She blinked. "...Everyone here knows 'of' the Red Hornet," she said, leaning in so close he could almost smell the perspiration on her forehead. "That is not the same as truly knowing." She smiled sadly. "Most don't more than her 'name', it's not like they owe her anything but money," she said.

He narrowed his eyes. "Do you, yourself, know where she is?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not." She pressed a red-nailed finger to her lips and made a 'shushing' noise. "But... my lips are sealed. Just how it is."

"...I can pay you?" he said coolly, his hand twitching to his wand.

"My lips are sealed..." She tilted her head, grinning as she slid a red-nailed finger across her delicate throat as if slitting it herself. "That's just how it is..."

Lucius' eyes widened.

Magic!

People needed to be kept in line and there were many ways to do this. The most effective was dark magic, of course, but not always. Any smart crime lord with cauldrons full of illegal business yet working with a large working force would have a method to keep private information private. It wasn't even that hard, it wasn't like the Ministry was trying to crack down on prostitution.

"Great..." he muttered, feeling the beginning of a headache.

No, this wasn't going to be useless venture, he wouldn't let it. Useless harlots be damned, he would find a way, he always did, this wasn't going to be an exception. He looked up at her, his resolve hardening.

She looked thoughtful. "...Oh, mister, don't be like that! I think that if you give me a few Sickles, I can direct you to a friend more to your flavour," she said brightly, suddenly pressing up against him. "She'll probably-"

"I don't need a fuck. I need information." He shoved her away, nearly making her trip over. "My... if I don't..." He let out a deep breath, clenching his fists as she scowled at him. "This could be my only chance - I need to know..." he broke off.

Her eyes, full of understanding and irritation. "I think you need a little help, you know," she said, almost snappish. "Give me a few Sickles. I'll. Send. You. To. A. Friend. More. To. Your. Flavour." She gritted her teeth, drawing every word out through her teeth; his eyes began to widen. "I think you'll be super satisfied! The things she does with her tongue - not many people can."

His eyes narrowed.

So, this girl had a friend who could possibly get him the information he needed...?

"I only have Galleons." He slid the said money from his pocket and into her welcoming hands, her eyes widening at each coin. "I'll pay you more... after I get the information and withdraw more from Gringotts later as it's not on me now." Yes, the promise of more lit her eyes up - and the fact it wasn't all on him at the moment meant that she'd likely not betray him in an attempt to mug him.

She fiddled with her purse, struggling with the strap. "T-That'll do." She smiled nervously at him, stuffing the money into it and swinging back round her shoulder. Her hand latched on his arm, bringing him close. "We'll draw less attention this way," she hissed before he tried to shake her off. "You're just a fat money-cat wanting a good time," she said, beginning to guide him down the nearest alleyway.

"I'm not fat..." he sneered.

Sure, he was in the office most of the time but he actually took good care of himself!

She gave him a strange look. "Term of expression." She led him down much to his frustration an even more windy, steeper alleyway to the left. "My name's Serafina, by the way," she said as an afterthought.

"I believe I guess that," he said, sneering as he nearly tripped over an uneven cobblestone.

The witch - Serafina - smiled, although it was barely visible in the dark.

It was long until they eventually came upon a rather crooked, small house - as if they all weren't crooked. Black paint was peeling from the paneling, the door, the window frames and more. The were bricks chipped and eroded. The crooked, arching roof was missing a fair few black tiles, leaving part of the rotting rafters exposed to the elements. And, to top-it-off, the windows were dirty and one of them was cracked as if nobody around her knew the incantation for a Cleaning and Repairing Charm.

He sneered in distaste.

"Home, sweet home," Serafina said with humour, stepping up to the peeling door and knocking on the door twice.

There was a moment of silence, then the door swung open to reveal a feminine figure, half-basked in the shadows. Squinting his eyes, all he could see was a dead straight hair flecked with flaming red and wide, emerald eyes slid towards him.

The mysterious witch tilted her head to Serafina.

"Don't worry. He's not a usual client," Serafina said briskly. "You're still illegal, right?"

She smiled, stepping aside, gesturing for them to enter. "I'm all kinds of illegal..." Her accent was soft and sensual - almost amused. Serafina stepped forward, but he hesitated. "Are you afraid we'll give you time well-spent?" she said.

Lucius sneered.

He would not be mocked.

"Don't think to highly of yourselves," he said, stepping over the cracked steps and through the door, his eyes never leaving either of them.

The door clicked shut, he heard the bolt thudding back into place. It made him tense.

The smiling red-haired witch leaned against the door, she let out a bark of a laugh. "I never expected this." She stepped towards him, willing himself not stiffen when she leaned in close. "What does wizard like Mr Malfoy desire so much to honour a place like this with his presence?" she whispered, her breath chilling his ear.

He narrowed his eyes, resisting the urge to blast her away.

He could of.

No matter confident these low-lives were, he could take them. What could they do? He was pretty sure a person whose talents laid on the perusing the backstreets like a glorified sex-doll didn't have much talent elsewhere. So what? Were they going to levitate dildos at him and try to tie him up with bondage? The cleverness they had was to pretend they stood a chance.

Despite everything, he chuckled.

It looked like Serafina had finally processed the words spewing from her friend's mouth. "...'Mr Malfoy'...?" Serafina repeated, her mouth agape and within moments, as if delayed a little, the ends of her lips curled slightly upwards into an almost open-mouthed grin. "...As in - _the_ Mr Malfoy?" she said, fluttering her eyes.

Oh please.

"No, the one who sells cucumbers at the neighbourhood stall..." Mr Malfoy drawled, rolling his eyes at her.

"Oh Sera, I take it you didn't just bring him to crack one-liners at me, did you?" the older witch said, walking past them into what appeared to be the lounge without a second glance.

Feeling irritated and almost feeling snubbed, he followed her.

The redhead was already sitting down on a fragile-looking chair with a slash marks in its deflated cushions. Her legs folded and her green eyes were expectant, the faint lines around them becoming more pronounced. Perhaps, it was the look, the arrogance of it, that set him off, but he felt a justified feeling that it would be easier to rip the answer out of her instead of the diplomatic approach...

He narrowed his eyes, focusing on hers.

_Legilimens._

He pushed forward.

He tried to open up her eyes and see into her mind; every two inches forward he was pushed three back. He was hitting a wall, a blurry wall made of brick and stone, each crack telling a story he could yet see.

She was still smiling. Her glowing eyes egging him on.

He gritted his teeth, he tried harder.

She winced.

One disappeared, one brick fell.

_There was a flicker of something..._

It was just a wall... he could break it... he would...

_...something about her face..._

Her smile was waning, her teeth were gritted.

The door slammed shut, snapping Lucius out of it and making him almost draw his wand- "Mummy!" a high-pitched voice called, and before anyone knew it a blur of green-black strips and mass of blonde attached itself to Serafina's knees.

Stilling for a moment, he stared.

It was a freckled girl around Viscaria's age. Her rags were a green and black striped sweater, grey skirt, black socks with holes in them and very worn shoes. She had doe-like brown eyes and a long, mess of dirty blonde hair, puffy and frizzy, it almost seemed to drown her small form.

He slid his wand back into his robe pocket.

The nameless prostitute smiled almost teasingly, but he could see it came slightly less easily this time.

Serafina seemed to go from prostitute-mode to mother-mode in an instant. "What have I told you about wondering outside this late? I thought you were in your room," she said, giving her daughter a disapproving look.

The little girl pouted and Lucius noticed she had a slight foamy looking substance above her upper lip. "But, mummy!" she whined, stamping her foot and giving her best, kicked puppy look probably. "Me and Roger were playing-"

"And, drinking butterbeer?" Serafina said sternly.

"No," the little girl said bluntly.

The blonde witch shook her head, trying to suppress a smile. "But, why is there butterbeer on your lip then?"

This girl grinned a little - rather brazenly. "Maybe... maybe it's imaginary?"

Serafina caved with a smile, showing her bad parenting. "Alright..." she said slowly, with a grin. "Just don't do it again." She tapped the girl's button nose, before glancing at some of the dirt that dusted her daughter's clothes. "Let's get you cleaned up..." As she said this, Lucius snorted, earning himself a glare. _Could anyone really get clean in a dump like this?_ "...And then, bed, Anna."

He wrinkled his nose.

Ah, the name was common as well.

'Anna' pouted as Serafina grabbed her hand and began to lead her upstairs. "But, mummy...!"

"No, no - now don't you start - bed. I'll even read you ones of picture books that..." echoed Serafina's voice, as the two got out of his line of vision.

And, now here he was, left with the nameless one still lounging in that chair like those smug house-cats Umbridge proudly owned and proudly displayed in the photographs that littered the walls and desk of her office.

Perhaps, she'd be more co-operative if he offered her tuna or something...?

"Aren't you going to sit, Mr Malfoy?" She gestured to a ragged-looking couch opposite her. "You came here to talk, right? Let's talk. We can keep things from getting ugly, I'm sure," she said.

"I'd prefer to stand," he said, looking at the couch in disgust. "...You're relatively proficient in Occlumency?" he said, narrowing his eyes. "Now, that's rare... where would someone like you pick up something like that?" He gave her a thin smile.

Shaking her head, she gave him a small smile. "Mr Malfoy. You're married. You know every girl has her secrets." She smiled at him, looking every bit coy. "I wouldn't worry about that... I'd worry more about... other things if I were you."

It was his will that stayed his hand from reaching from his wand. "Your friend - 'Serafina' - said you'd help me on that account?" he said tightly, narrowing his eyes until they were slits. The witch blinked, seemingly surprised he'd remembered her 'friend's' name. "...Help me find the Red Hornet?" he clarified.

She nodded. "Yes. Unlike Serafina, I don't have what you call... a dog-tag?"

"Must be dangerous. And who are you exactly?" he drawled, raising an eyebrow.

"People sometimes call me La Mégère." He wondered if he could blackmail her with that? Someone must think they own this witch. "That's all I'll give you, Mr Malfoy. It won't help you, but you can waste your time, it's what people without any do best," she said knowingly.

He froze. "What do you mean: 'people without any' time?" he said, feeling his heart pick up pace.

"Nothing. I misspoke," she denied.

Withdrawing his wand, he pointed it at her. "Tell me! Tell me now," he hissed. "Your friend said you could assist me in finding the Red Hornet. She said you could help. Well, help! You'll find anything else... unpleasant," he said, his lip curling.

"Oh, is that going to hurt me...?" she said, with a teasing grin.

He glared deathly. "Yes, it is!"

She looked look disappointed. "You're a master politician, a wizard of a grand lineage... and you just solve your problems by pointing a wand at them." She sneered. "You don't know if I'll talk. I know I won't. I'd love to see the look on your face when you realise that your only source of information has dried up because you 'pointed a wand at it' and didn't think, but even I trust I'll be a little out of it."

Lucius looked at her coolly. "You'll break."

"What if I don't? What if? Then, what?" She glared at him in irritation.

"Well then, maybe I'll interrogate Serafina after?" he snapped, feeling his cool mask beginning to crack from boiling anger and frustration. "Maybe, if - when - I carve bits of her precious little girl - bit by bit - she'll tell me everything she knows..."

She smirked. "Oh, she will. Just not anything you need to know. I've kept her adequately oblivious." She snorted. "She does rat on people to the Aurors for extra Sickles. It's hard to trust girls like that, you know." She scrunched up her brow. "...And it's even harder to get decent lodgings nowadays..."

"Oh well, I'll give a try torturing you then. You'll suffer more than you could ever imagine," he smirked easily. "Or... I could pay you. Pay you handsomely in fact. Just give me the information; I'll make you rich beyond your wildest dreams," he said lightly.

"Come on, Mr Malfoy. What if I don't want money?" La Mégère said curiously.

Lucius found himself taken aback.

She hadn't even... if someone was even offering what he was prepared to offer these prostitutes to him, even he'd fancy taking it. Argh... he was getting a headache trying to understand these people.

"Forgive me, I don't think I heard you right? You're a prostitute. If it hasn't come to your attention." She arched an eyebrow in mock confusion. "What I'm prepared to offer is something you won't make in a lifetime. Isn't that better than needless torture?" he sneered.

She pouted. "I don't need money. "

"You could really use the money. I can assure of that," he said, sneering at the derelict room.

"Oh, but, the thing is, I don't want it, sir," she said, scrunching up her brow. "I'm curious. When money can't solve a Malfoys problems...?" She tilted her head. "...What do you do then, Mr Malfoy?"

His lip curled, raising his wand. "Torture it is, then."

"You know, I expected better from you. You..." She shook her head, frowning a little. "I thought you knew. I _thought_ you knew."

He narrowed his eyes. "Knew. What?"

"That there are other forms of currency other than money," she said, leaning forward in her seat with a beguiling smile. "...I know where your little girl is and you didn't even have the decency to try and think about what I want."

He lowed his wand slightly. "What do you want?"

"Too late to play that game. You've made me feel bad... bad for you," she said, tilting her head and giving him a pitying smile. "I never thought I'd feel sorry for you, but you've done it." Lucius stared at her, a curse on the tip of his tongue. "Visinia Zabini has Orion and Viscaria in her clutches. She's the Red Hornet..."

His eyes widened in shock, very nearly dropping his wand. "W-What?"

"...She's holding them at The White Wyvern, I trust you know where that is?"

"Why would-? Zabini is-?" he spluttered, feeling like a giant had stamped on his head.

"The Blacks called on her to do favour she owed. You know what happen when Black asks favour. Surprisingly..." She looked at him like he was slow in the head. "...it's not exactly suggestion."

He really wanted to torture her... but he sighed, composing himself and put his wand back in his pocket. "How do I even know you're telling the truth?" he said coolly.

"You don't, but what if? What if?" She smiled.

He wanted to kill her. "I will not let you trick-"

"I don't really care too much if you save them. Others might care more, I'm sure you can think of some names," she interrupted, coldly staring him down with her sharply emerald orbs. "...You better hurry, Mr Malfoy. Nobody knows when the Blacks will come to collect."

Lucius gave her one last, long look, before reluctantly nodding. He made for the door, suspiciously glancing back to keep tabs on her to make sure she wouldn't knife him in the back.

The door shut behind him and he let out a breath in the chilly air.

If she was lying...

* * *

Narcissa grimaced.

Draco didn't really understand. The poor child didn't understand. She clutched her mouth, feeling her eyes beginning to water up - he didn't understand that he may never see his sister again, and Orion. Draco - her sweet, innocent child - would have to eventually realise this if Viscaria and Orion...

She couldn't take it.

He kept asking and asking where they were.

She couldn't take it.

She wanted to break-down and cry. Because, her little girl and the little boy she'd promised herself she'd take under he wing - they were just gone, just like that, and the days since then had been a lifeless lifetime.

And, now, Lucius had disappeared to Merlin knew where. She was left dealing with this on her own - trying to make sure that Draco remained safe and filing and filing parchments of inquiries about the progress of the Private Investigators and the Aurors that were on the case - disappointed with every piece of information she got in return.

"We're trying, Mrs Malfoy."

"Nothing yet, Mrs Malfoy."

"We'll get back to you, Mrs Malfoy."

It was driving her mad and she didn't do mad.

She stared in the mirror - sunken eyes resting on restless bags, dull blue eyes gaunt like a graveyard, skin paler than snow, and all drowned by soft, blonde hair - it wasn't right that she was just here, wasting away. She couldn't even bother to dress up; slinging a blue cardigan over a dress-shirt, with a black dress and black shoes.

She looked down, before turning to face her mother-in-law who was diligently sipping her tea from her marigold-painted cup.

Veloria caught her staring, arching an eyebrow. "Hmm... you look terrible," the old woman said simply, before she went back to sipping her tea.

"My daughter's missing. My ward's missing." Narcissa let loose a harsh laugh, fixing the woman a dry, blithering look. "Of course, I look terrible."

"Well, if it's so 'terrible', do something about it. That's what I always say," the elder witch said knowingly, giving her a look.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes like a hawk, pressing her lips together in a thin line. "...I have been doing something. I've been checking in with the Aurors and Private Investigators regularly - monitoring the case," she said sweetly, her voice truly dripping acid at the woman.

"More like a pest, if I do say so myself."

"And, just because you 'say it', doesn't make it true," Narcissa said sharply, giving her a cool look. "What have you been doing, exactly? Besides criticizing me, that is."

Her mother-in-law smiled. "Abraxas is doing my dirty work at this very moment," she remarked, rather matter-of-factly. "The dear has been working himself into a migraine to get revenge against the Blacks." A nostalgic smile crept on her wrinkled lips. "Although, I think this is just him making up for forgetting our honeymoon-"

Narcissa's face slid into a sneer before she could stop herself. "Don't you care about your granddaughter-?" she began, the words tumbling from her lips like a cold waterfall.

"Of course, I do, but getting upset about it isn't going to solve anything," Veloria interrupted, giving Narcissa a disapproving look. "Grief is the final nail in the coffin. Don't do it prematurely, dear - it's bad luck." She took another sip of her tea, sighing as she fixed Narcissa a pitying smile. "The only reason I came here is because I wanted to see if you were alright - and what you were going to do...?"

"What am I going to do?" Narcissa said, bemused and a little taken aback.

"Yes, dear. I'm not speaking German, am I?" the elder witch said sweetly, her voice dipped in condescension.

"I know German," Narcissa said dryly.

"But, not English, apparently?" The same look on her face was the one Lucius often donned when looking down on people; it set Narcissa's teeth on edge. "From what I know, you're a smart woman, Narcissa. I'd have thought you'd come up with something by now. Besides masterfully sitting on a chair, masterfully sipping tea and masterfully restraining yourself from crying on my bad shoulder for more than five minutes."

"What would you have me do, Veloria? If you're so brilliant as you grandly claim, give me a masterplan fit for a Malfoy," she said, her tone as hard as stone. "Think of it as a Christmas present come early."

"The Blacks are playing a game with us. Let's rip the foundation up from them and change that game," Veloria said matter-of-factly. "But, how do we do such a task, you might ask? It's simple..." Her eyes turned colder than ice and Narcissa felt a chill breathe on her spine. "...We be just as ruthless as them and take something they love to show them how it feels..."

Narcissa felt a little hesitant. "...And, what would that be?"

"The question isn't 'what?', the question is: Narcissa, would you do anything to save your daughter, your family, your ward? Would you do anything to make them suffer the way they have made you all these years." Veloria looked at her with grey eyes so like Lucius', transfixing her to the spot as if they were the only two people in the world. "The things they've made your children, your family go through... can you bring yourself to pay them back in blood?"

Narcissa smiled, a chuckle bubbling from her lips. "You're asking as if this is terribly hard. But, I'd kill for my children," she said, taking a sip of her tea, making sure her eyes showed her sincerity.

Veloria sipped her tea thoughtfully. "Really?

Narcissa sipped her tea thoughtfully. "...I think I could murder the whole world for them..."

* * *

Lucius wrinkled his nose.

The pub was the typical, seedy place.

Dimly-lit to the point Lucius was surprised anyone could see anything - they did realise that you could have more than seven candles in a room, didn't they. Although, maybe it's because the candles emitted darkish, pinks, purples, reds, violets as a form of light. It actually looked more like a night-club than a pub - perhaps some recent renovations?

There were rows of tables with red-cushioned chairs, and further forward there was a stage with velvet curtains. Triangular mirrors aligning the walls, glinting the sparse light.

It was surprisingly crowded.

Many witches and wizards were sitting at their tables - smoking their rich cigars, drinking their fiery drinks, chatting, laughing and doing much more decadent behaviour.

The red curtains for the stage drew back and revealed a pretty, black-haired witch in a red, tight-fitting, floral dress. She had pale skin, green eyes and red lipstick laid on a little too thick. She began sing into the golden microphone - the thing must have been charmed by magic because Muggle technology (he sneered at the thought) didn't work in Diagon Alley.

Still, the woman's voice reverberated around the room.

"...I made it through the wilderness..."

Some wizards began to howl.

"...Somehow I made it through..."

Some witches joined in the deplorable behaviour as well.

The woman on stage began to dance, rather sensually, as she continued to sing. "...Didn't know how lost I was, until I found you... I was beat incomplete... I'd been had, I was sad and blue... But you made me feel... Yeah, you made me feel... Shiny and new..."

Then, suddenly the chorus exploded everywhere, nearly deafening him.

"...Like a virgin!"

Ugh, Muggle-trash!

Lucius didn't understand the fascination the public had with it. Even Wizarding musicians, or those bands-people, had begun to copy this filth. Gone where the contemporaries of the past with their eloquence and masterful use of restraint as they delved into the meanings and nuances of society, and here now were people talking about how they got buggered over a trashcan.

A sharp, woody, oriental fragrance wafted...

"She sings good, doesn't she?" He whipped around, hand twitching to his wand only to stop short. She should have been Zabini. The glittering silver of a sequined dress glowing in the light. Black, gold-lined heels. Dark purple lips, and green eye-shadow. Black hair was sprung up in a bouncy, lush afro-style. "She's Russian, I believe."

Her features were all wrong.

Too severe.

Too serpent-like.

They were too old in a way.

"Who are you supposed to be?" he asked, pushing up a tight smile.

"Red Hornet, Lucius," she said with a familiar, silvery voice. "I thought you'd come looking for me."

His disguise must have been very insufficient if nearly everyone was guessing it was him by now. Maybe, he should tweak it later?

"Zabini, am I right?" he guessed, scrutinising her.

She wagged a finger. "Come now. My friends call me Red."

"Don't play games with me," Lucius sneered. "You know what I'm here for and you have it..."

"Now, I don't know what you mean, Lucius," Zabini said, as her features seemed to melt into something more familiar, the wicked smile becoming more pronounced. "What little bird told you such a little, white lie like that? I'll have them whipped in the streets for doing that to an old friend..."

Only when it suited her...

Lucius narrowed his eyes, cooling them like a freezing ocean. "Do you know what I do to people who defy me, Visinia," he whispered in her ear, leaning close - as the two men behind her stiffened, their hands clasped on their wands. "Do you think those little men behind you can hold up against me?"

"They're just there to make me look important. I'm the one you should be worried about," she replied, leaning back to look him in the eye - even if it was cheesy for Lucius to acknowledge, it was like ice met fire in that moment. He wasn't sure if he could take Zabini - and, her easy confidence made him feel a little on edge.

But, he wouldn't back down.

And, he felt he wouldn't get the answers he wanted from her.

He whipped out his wand and pointed it at her face - making her bodyguards draw their own wands. "You'll tell me where my children are or I'll give you a face not even a mother could love," Lucius threatened, his voice echoing. "Now, a beautiful woman like you wouldn't like that, would you?"

The music stopped, like a dead-man's switch. All the smiles died. All eyes stared upon them like a stage had suddenly grown underneath their feet.

"...Hmm, you always seem to have an answer for everything, Lucius, don't you?" Zabini arched an amused eyebrow, smirking. "I forget, silly me. Please tell me..." She glance down, licking her lips. "What's a man without a cock called, again...?"

Lucius slowly looked down with dread to find her wand pointed right at his crotch.

Oh, great. This was just wonderful.

He gritted his teeth, keeping his wand firm. "I'm not leaving until you give me what I want," he hissed, keeping his voice low so only she would hear. "The question you need to realise is what side you're on - the Blacks, who are desperate and fool-hardy, or me, the monster you know will give anything to win - gold, blood - and..." He grimaced, but his eyes were dead-on serious. "...A cock, if need be. Give me my children and I will owe you - and I can pay you better than the Blacks."

Zabini looked at him, like she was seeing him for the first time. "Can you?" She raised an eyebrow. She glanced around, a look in her eye he couldn't decipher. "I refuse. Money isn't my only vice." But the way she said - the way her eyes flickered...

He felt strong hands grab him from behind, his wand taken from his grasp in less than a moment. Struggling furiously, he found himself thrown out on his posterior with his wand carelessly landing by his side. He was in some dingy alley now, littered with waste and rubbish.

Getting up with his teeth so gritted it was surprising they didn't shatter, he felt a strange tingling in his pocket.

He glanced down, confused.

There was a blink of purple hidden in its confines. Discreetly reaching in, he angled the scrap of paper so he could see it better.

It was a note.

_Dear Bruno Willm,_

_Let's make it a private date._

_Thorverton Hotel, Room 123._

_V._

And then the letter dissolved as if it'd never existed.

* * *

Narcissa stared, shocked.

First, Veloria had taken her and Draco to their handsome estate in Somerset.

Abraxas had smiled at Draco, taking the little boy by his hand and leading him up to the ancient nursery. Narcissa almost wanted to follow - to keep her eye on her only accountable child - yet, Veloria had shook her head and ushered her downstairs to the basement, where every creak of the stairs seemed to put her on edge.

The elderly had held her wand up, having brightly caste a 'Lumos' spell. What Narcissa saw at the end of the journey shocked her. It almost chilled her to the bone. She couldn't believe it...

Tied up in a chair by the bounds of glinting, silvery ropes was Melania Black. Gagged by a white cloth tied a little too tightly it seemed to almost cut into her face. Her eyes were wide and wild, tears staining her cheeks. Hair trussed up, a few strands loose. She was vainly struggling, emitting muffled noises that only got louder when Veloria came into view.

Then, Melania stilled.

Narcissa and her stared at each-other like they were on another plane.

Then, wide-eyed, Narcissa turned to her mother-in-law for answers. "Caught her shopping at Twilfitt &amp; Taffings. We had a nice chat, of course - and here we are," Veloria said dryly. Narcissa just stared, unable to make a sound leave her throat. "...Oh, before I forget..." She smiled at Melania, drawling. "I really am sorry about this, Melania. It's a necessary evil."

The Black matriarch muffled something, glaring.

"Now, I will send a letter to Arcturus, telling him his I've kidnapped his wife and if he doesn't give us back Viscaria and Orion - I'll probably kill her," Veloria informed, while Melania struggled even harder against the silvery ropes. "I said 'if he doesn't'. Honestly, don't panic until there's absolutely no hope."

Narcissa clenched her fists. "Velor-"

"You said that you'd do 'anything' to save 'your children', right?" the infuriating witch's eyes turned to accusing steel. "I'm pretty sure this is included in the package deal. It's not like I'm asking you to even 'murder the whole world', Narcissa, don't be so shocked..."

"Well, this shocks me..." Narcissa retorted, her eyes hardening. "Do you think I'm easily shocked, Veloria...? This shocks me." She threw the woman a harsh look.

Veloria sighed. "You have to make a choice. The Blacks or the Malfoys?" she said, giving Narcissa an imploring look. "For years, it's not been a problem for you to sit on the fence. Now, it is..."

"I haven't just sat of the fence," Narcissa snapped.

"Yes, you've done some nice little things. But, are you willing to do what it takes - to seal the deal - something beyond just simple slander in the newspapers?" the old crone said, a bit of irritation seeping into her voice. "Your children are Malfoy; the Blacks have done enough to them that you must realise-"

"Why don't we just give them, Orion, then? Just give in, like that?" Narcissa asked grimly, the troubling thought leaping from her lips before she could stop herself. "...We could just give Orion over. He is the Black heir, after all - and, that's that!" she said, feeling a sickness in her stomach, but her resolve was hardening by the second.

Veloria sneered. "Is this what breaks your resolve to win?"

Narcissa's idea had a footing and she couldn't let it go. "It's not about winning - Viscaria is more important..." she paused, let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "It's more important to get Viscaria back alive than putting everyone at risk with this stupid gambit. I like Orion, but the Blacks will never stop because Orion is their heir, not ours."

"You're weak, Narcissa. I thought you were better than that, but no," Veloria said, absolutely disgusted. "I suppose first instincts were correct. I was mistaken for thinking that under all those ditsy smiles and lovely ballgowns, you had an actual backbone."

"I don't care about your power-play or your narcissistic pride!" Narcissa snapped, her rage swelling. "I can see how your beady, little eyes..." She spat the words, as Veloria looked offended. "...I've already broke my back for it before, but not over my children. All you care about watching the Blacks wasting away like starving flies in a jar, not my children, not Viscaria at least as long as there's a spare kicking around."

"Don't you dare say that! I love my granddaughter..." the woman hissed, her grey eyes flashing and her wrinkled fingers twitching for her wand.

"Not enough to 'loose'. Your sight is limited by your greed, all you can see is either we get Viscaria back and keep the weapon that is Orion or not winning either back and you getting an excuse for your bloody revenge." Melania let out a muffled squeal. "I'd the one that'd have to watch fallout, listening to you say 'there was nothing you could do'!"

"How dare you-"

The elderly witch tried to get a word in, but Narcissa cut her off. "...Because, it's never your fault, right? I've heard it all before... You're more villain in this than a victim. You are the one antagonised the Blacks and didn't even bother to work for a compromise - sabotaged it, in fact - because of your own self-righteous del-"

"You absolved them and blame me?" Veloria laughed harshly, obviously scarcely believing what she was hearing.

"I don't absolve them; I don't absolve you either," Narcissa said, with a tight smile. "My family would be better off without your kind of help."

There was silence for a while, until Narcissa took a step towards Melania. Then, quick as a flash, both women drew their wands and pointed it at each-other.

"Don't you dare...!"

* * *

_She smiled at him._

_"Isn't this fantastic...?"_

* * *

**A.N: So, Zabini is back and Narcissa's arguing with her mother-in-law! ****Also, change Vyxienne's name to La Mégère (not sure if it's that better :( but meh!) because I ended up hating the former, sorry!**


	19. Chapter 18: Mocking Bird

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 18: Mockingbird**

* * *

_He wanted this to be real._

* * *

**5th August, 1987**

* * *

Both witches had their wands trained on the other.

"What are you doing?" Veloria said coldly.

"Shouldn't I be asking the same question?" Narcissa replied coldly.

Silence drawn up was a battleground of wills, their eyes never left each others.

Melania's eyes seemed to swivel back and forth between them like a ping-pong ball. The utter confusion and hope mixed on her deathly pale face. Narcissa frowned, glancing at her for a second, before retraining her eyes on Veloria snappish as a hawk.

Veloria had a disappointed look on her face. "...I thought you'd be willing to do what it takes. I really did," she sighed, shaking her head - her wand still held firm. "Black loyalty is quite thick, however. Even if there have been exceptions..." She had a thoughtful look. "What do you suggest? Expose your wisdom on the 'right' thing to do, please - since you know best, right?"

Honestly, Narcissa saw where Lucius got it!

"Do you really think that this will be the end of it? Kidnapping Melania - bartering and bartering, fighting and fighting, exploiting and exploiting - in a never-ending cycle?" Narcissa said, giving the Malfoy Matriarch an imploring look. "Do you think we can do this forever, Veloria? Do you really think we won't end up dead by the end of this? If we give them Orion; we can call a truce," Narcissa said, shame dripping from the cracks.

Why did it have to come to this?

"And, you'd give up the Black heir?" the elder witch said, narrowing her eyes like she couldn't quite grasp the audacity.

She struggled to maintain her composure. "As I said before, perhaps Orion is more trouble than he's worth," she said coolly. "Don't get me wrong..." She breathed. "I may sound callous, but that isn't to say I do not care for Orion. He's a wonderful boy, despite his troubles. It's just that - after all that has happened - a Black can only ever fit with the Blacks."

Veloria rolled her eyes. "And, you would know all about that, wouldn't you, Narcissa_ Black_?" The way she spat out the name hurt.

"You think that insults me? I am a Black, I am who I am because of that," Narcissa said, a smile curling on face. "I am Malfoy, too. It wasn't blood's doing, it was love that made that." Veloria snorted at the sentiment. "I will do anything for my children and this is the only option. This is for the good of everyone, Veloria," she said this more to convince herself.

"I understand. Unlike me, your love makes you weak," her mother-in-law said, raising her wand-

"Stupefy," Narcissa snapped, flicking her wand and letting loose a red stream of light.

The Malfoy Matriarch eyes widened with shock, barely deflecting the bolt of light with her wand. "How dare you-!" The old crone deflected another red light; the strain on her wrist apparent - she deflected - she deflected - and she deflected each spell Narcissa sent her way. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Narcissa just managed to dodge that one, a strand of her hair coming loose over her face.

She breathed, straightening up.

Veloria Malfoy was skilled, but Narcissa was younger and a Black.

Spells flew at each other, encasing the room in light.

Bang! A table shattered into pieces - smash!

A shelve of glass goblets shattered - thud!

An ornate cabinet crashed to the ground with another bang - and then Veloria's arm arched too far and she was struck in the abdomen, a surprised, smothered gasp escaping her lips as she toppled down and onto a cushioning charm Narcissa had quickly cast beneath her.

"I'm sorry, but you brought this on yourself," Narcissa said, guilt in the pit of her stomach. She turned to Melania, and with a wave of her want the restraints melted and the gag fell to the floor.

Melania stared at her like she'd never seen her before. "...Narcissa...?"

Narcissa tried to smile, but her face felt too heavy. "Melania... I'm sorry about this..." she trailed off - her ear pricked at the creak of the door to which she swiftly turned with the words leaving her lips. "Stupefy!" Abraxas toppled backwards; the glimpse of a stunned expression on his face and a wand rolling down the stairs.

"Thank you, Narcissa..." Melania croaked, tears welling up in her eyes. "I knew you were my favourite for a reason."

Narcissa sighed, shaking her head as she awkwardly gestured for Melania to go in front of her - which the woman did - and Narcissa kept a watchful eye on her. "Look, Melania. I need to get in contact with your husband - to tell him how I'm going to give Orion over if he returns my daughter. I'll pull some strings, here and there. We'll have the papers legalize by the end of the week, probably."

"Won't that look bad? With your slander campaign?" the auburn-haired witch said in confusion.

Narcissa felt an oncoming headache. "I'll retract my statement about Arcturus' possibly 'knowing' of the abuse. We'll play it off that Orion lied because he hates Walburga and didn't want to return to a family he'd had such a bad experience with through her. I trust there will be a compromise we can make, right?"

Melania nodded earnestly. "My husband only wanted Orion. He's the Black heir."

Her lip tightening, Narcissa nodded.

"Follow me."

* * *

Lucius frowned, looking at the rather dingy hotel.

**THORVERTON HOTEL.**

Those were the words illuminated on the neon sign, so this must have been the right place. Still, he'd expected Zabini - if it was her, even - to meet him in a more extravagant, well-kept place than this. But, he supposed that she wanted it to be a low-key event, as they say.

He sighed, shaking his head.

Stepping through the wooded, thick doors he entered a rather meager establishment. Perhaps, it had been rather glamorous in its prime; he saw a glimmer of something behind the red and white cracked tiles of the floor, the dull mahogany wood of the reception desk, the dusty chandelier that's silver had rusted and whose glass beads had chipped. Although, the peeling floral wallpaper was probably always ghastly.

There was a unpleasant smell of damp, and looking up you'd find quite a bit of mould hidden away in the corners.

A wizard lazed in the chair of the Reception desk, snoozing with a half-eaten sandwich resting on his chest. The man had a hard face, cracked like a cracked sink and a big nose. He wore a uniform - a dull-rouge waistcoat with silver buttons, a few of which were either missing or undone, and grey trousers with dirty-looking, worn shoes.

His name-tag said 'Tony McEwen'.

After a moment of deliberation and sneering, Lucius pressed the call-bell on the desk. It emitted a loud, ringing sound, startling the man awake and making his sandwich fall of his chest onto the desk, splattering it with mustard much Lucius' distaste.

Screwing his eyes narrow, 'Tony McEwen', the supposed receptionist, scowled at Lucius. "Who 're you 'en?" McEwen mumbled, tired and irritated.

Lucius looked at him dryly. "Bruno Willm."

"And, wha' room do ya want, Mr Willm?" McEwen asked, half-heartedly.

"Room 123," Lucius replied, easily. "I've heard it's got a nice view."

The wizard nodded lazily. "It's _alright_," he agreed, shifting through a few boxes and then tossing Lucius the key - which, he just managed to catch. "It's second floor - heh, you'll find it."

Lucius prevented himself from snapping at the man for his callous behaviour. He gave the idiot a curt smile, before he made his way up the stairs - which creaked quite loudly, seemingly unpleasantly dipping as if they were going to crack at any moment and he'd end up in the basement any moment.

Walking through the almost claustrophobic, certainly dim and wearing, thickly painted green hallways, he eventually - 120, 121, 122 (although the number-plate was missing for that one), 123 - happened upon the correct room.

Pausing at the door for a few moments, he raised the key to the door, pushed it in, and began to turn it anti-clockwise. The door clicked and, with a deep breath, he opened it find what appeared to be an empty room.

He raised his wand and pointed it down the room's minuscule hallway to the bedroom.

_"Homenum Revelio," _he cast non-verbally.

There was a swooping feeling tingling across his body and he could see glow of the ethereal marker wafting done the hall from the bedroom. It was apparent, as the spell was design to do, that there was somebody - one person, the spell suggested - in the bedroom, and he had a fairly good idea on who it was.

Stepping into the room, with a moments hesitation, he fell into a determined stride.

Turning the corner, he found she sitting, leisurely with her legs folded, on the crumpled-looking bed with a bored expression on her face. She smirked as she saw him, flicking a black curl out her face. "You came..."

"Yes, I did," he said coldly. "Where are your bodyguards?"

"They were just for show. I'm not feeling very 'showy' at the moment is all," she said bitterly, before looking up and giving him a smirk.

He was tired of all this beating around the bush. "Why did you draw me here?"

She tilted her head, kinking out her shoulders. "Well... I've been having a bit of trouble these past few months." She gestured for him to sit down, patting space right next to her. He just dryly stared at her. "Sit down and I'll tell you all about it." He made no move, making her arch a goading eyebrow and him in return. "...Well, if you're not going to play along..." Her voice dripped with disappointment, making a move to get up.

He decided to play along. "I didn't realise you were so childish," he noted, warily sitting down beside her. Maybe, with all the secrecy, Zabini would be willing to cut a deal...?

"Age brings out the worse in us," she replied, narrowing her eyes at him. "You're wondering why you're here, aren't you?" Well, obviously. "You see, I have a little problem..." she said.

"Oh...?" he drawled, arching an eyebrow.

She looked troubled for a moment. "The Black's offered me quite the King's ransom for babysitting Viscaria and Orion for a bit. You know, the usual: control of the entire, British Wizarding World's crime families, making top woman and tons of moneys." She sighed, twirling a black curl between her red fingernails. "I was like: isn't that a nice trinket just in time for my birthday? Too bad the deliverers are backstabbers with one decrepit foot in the grave."

He arched an eyebrow. "Isn't that obvious?" His eyes narrowed when she just smiled. "You'd rather trust a rich man to pay you than one in trouble, right...?"

Zabini smiled at him, raising a thoughtful finger at him. "Something like that..." She paused, an amused smile pushing up her lips. "If you have to guess, that rich man is you." She paused. "If you actually had to guess that, I'm not sure you're smart enough to be working with me."

"Where are my children?" he snapped.

"Your children? I thought that only one was your daughter... and the other was a ward?" Zabini said coyly.

"If you don't tell me..." Her eyes narrowed as his hand twitched to his wand.

"No, need for that, Lucius." She looked nervous, just very briefly. "I'll even let you see them for them for a bit. To check on them. But..." Her eyes were like slits. "You'll only be taking them home when you do me a favour, just one little favour. Do this and you will get what you want... betray me and you'll never find what's left of them," she said, her face twisting a sneer.

Lucius felt rage swell in him, ripping his wand from his pocket and pointing it at her. "Big words. You look pretty vulnerable!" he hissed, deathly and quietly, his hands were gripping the wand so tight they were turning white.

The between her eyes, she glared up defiantly. "You'd never save them in time. My underlings have orders to do very bad things to them if something happens to me," Zabini said, there was no smugness in her voice but dangerous fact.

He wanted to kill her.

He would kill her, whether it took a second or ten years. She would not live a full life, he'd make sure of it, and it would not be easy... but, this was not the time. With that piece of mind, he slid his wand back in his pocket but he did not sit down.

Being close to her again like that...

_...He'd strangle her._

"What favour is that, exactly?" He could barely get the words out.

"As I said, I've got a problem," she stressed. "My little lambs are scared, a little wolf is butchering up my flock. Leaving their bodies strewn in the streets under an illusion charm, just waiting to be discovered." She paused. "It's bad for business."

He arched an eyebrow. "So...?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Well, I had a free afternoon with nothing to do so I looked into it. 'Mysterious man', 'face obscured', 'observed skulking about', a 'shiny, dark trench-coat' and 'likely psychotic', but I guess the last one's a given... You know, a few of my guys saw him couple times in the Ministry areas. He lost them. He seemed to know the place 'very well'-"

"Why don't you set a trap for him then?" he said curiously.

She sighed wistfully, slouching on the bed. "He wised up. Three of my guys paid the price." She licked her lips. "I should have been there. I should of cancelled that stupid Aerobic's session, but Joaquin insisted." She looked wistful.

He looked at her dryly. "What a sacrifice."

Zabini chuckled. "I know." He gave her a thin smile. "Anyway, I suspect he's a member of the Ministry gone bad - or would you say 'badder'? Bring me the murderer and his wand. Then, you can have your brats back," she said.

"How will you know it's him?" Lucius couldn't help but ask, even if it was to his detriment.

She smiled mysteriously. "Just a feeling." He almost balked at that. "...His wand should also prove ample evidence, the spell he uses is very specific." Well, at least that was something.

He narrowed his eyes, looking at her thoughtfully. "...And, what of your plans to be number one?"

Zabini had a wry smile. "Hmm... What plan?" She stood up, slinging her dragon-scale purse over her shoulder. "Now, how about a visit? Don't get any funny ideas..." She smirked at him. "...There are precautions."

"Of course..." He smiled tightly, fighting the urge to bash her skull in. "Show me them."

"As you wish..."

* * *

It hadn't really taken much.

She'd sent a letter inviting Arcturus Black to Malfoy Manor - and knowing the man's aged curiosity would rule over his suspicions, especially with the tid-bit that Melania was here - Narcissa was not surprised when she caught a glimpse of him Apparrating at the front gate.

She already ordered a House-Elf to let him and soon enough the man wondered into the lounge area - where she and Melania were drinking some Peachtree Fizzing Tea she'd recently bought boxes of and quaintly chatting about the old days.

"...Oh, yes, well that's just Bellatrix..."

"...Hmm, well, she was one of kind, wasn't she...?"

Of course, she'd already healed up Melania's few bruises so that Arcturus' wouldn't be set off.

And, it was funny - the vague, bemused look on Arcturus' face summed it up. She'd invited the Blacks place where it had all started in a way - and, hopefully, the place where it would end.

Of course, before anyone can question her mothering skills, she already sent Draco away to the Berrows for the night. Whatever the Berrows were, they did not hurt children - that much was clear to her from the off-set. And, she'd trust them in Draco's presence over letting the Blacks get within a yard of Draco considering their track-record.

After all, Lucius had told her of his theory of how the Vox Magi just a front for the Blacks to do whatever they wanted and have a scapegoat on the ready.

She almost gritted her teeth, but she forcefully reminded herself that she was doing this out of necessity. If she was doing anything out of emotion right now, she could not vouch that these Blacks would not be dead on the floor by now while she sipped her sweet tea in triumph.

So, she reminded herself, again, this was out of necessity.

Not kindness or weakness, but necessity.

Besides, the reason she'd taken Orion in the first place - that initial, no so selfish thought - was to help the Blacks, even if had become corrupted so easily. Too bad the Black's had struck out like vipers before she could tell them that fact and have worked out a compromise.

Arcturus stared at her, surprised. "Could you please repeat that?"

"Give me my daughter back and you can have Orion," Narcissa said, standing firm. "That is my ultimatum - Orion Black will go with the Blacks and Viscaria Malfoy will go with the Malfoys." She breathed. "I will retract my slander about you abusing Orion. We can play it that after a bad experience with Walburga, he lied about you out of spite and fear."

Arcturus, for a moment, looked like this could be too good to be true. "Is this a trick, Narcissa?" the man asked, suspicion lacing his voice. He glanced towards his wife, Melania, who gave him a re-assuring smile.

"Is it that hard to believe that I want my daughter back safe and sound?" Narcissa asked, feeling rather offended. "My daughter is precious to me, Arcturus. I can't sleep not knowing if she's okay - where she is?" She sighed, giving them a curt smile. "You've won. You can have Orion Black - your heir. I only want my daughter returned, safe and sound - and there be peace between our families, for which I know my father wanted."

"And, you think that we'll just settle for these terms when we hold all the cards?" Arcturus said, amused - and, as always, Narcissa knew that pride was his folly as always.

"How long will you hold does cards, dear Arcturus?" Narcissa asked, arching an eyebrow. "You can't keep Orion and Viscaria hidden for the rest of their lives, can you?" She gave them a look. "Wouldn't it be better if you could legally acquire Orion - with our help, of course? As I said to Melania, we'll make it so you can legally have him and even parade him around the world like a glorified tea-set... all I ask for is my daughter back and there be at least some peace between our families?"

Melania frowned at Arcturus. "I think that would be more than acceptable, don't you, Arcturus?" she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder. "If we can have Orion legally, with Narcissa's help..." The way Arcturus' eye twitched - and, Narcissa knew that's wherein his problem really lied - the idea of he'd need help from Narcissa Malfoy to get what he wanted. "...Arcturus?"

"You've won, Arcturus," Narcissa said firmly. "Give us back Viscaria and you'll claim Orion rightfully as your own - just this one thing and everything will be fine."

Arcturus smirked. "I'm a little surprised that you would want a girl like Viscaria back, anyway?" he remarked - trying to beguile her of course, and she practically had to bite her tongue to prevent a harsh barb. "When I last saw - the look in her eyes. Paint her hair black and her eyes dark brown, and she'd be Bellatrix..."

"Your point?" Narcissa said, coldly.

Arcturus still had the damn smirk on his face. "What was it I said to your little girl?" He had a thoughtful expression on his face. "I told her she 'reminded me of Bellatrix' - and, you know what she said?"

"Just give me Viscaria and I you can keep Orion," Narcissa said, sharply, clenching her fist a little. "You ought not to waste time by procrastinating..."

Arcturus arched an eyebrow. "You don't want to know...?" he said, steepling his fingers together and leaning forward in his chair. "No, no... Narcissa, you've always been too curious - always poking your nose, always wanting to be in the loop so you could gossip and giggle with your friends." Narcissa narrowed her eyes, while Melania awkwardly bristled in the background. "...You don't want to know?"

"I don't. It doesn't interest me," Narcissa said, flatly.

Arcturus wriggled his finger at her. "I think you're lying, Narcissa," he drawled - amusement glinting in his eyes. "She said 'You remind me of the guy I killed, sir'..." His voice almost became higher-pitch - as if half-heartedly emulating Viscaria. "...'I hope your eyes will be just like his when daddy kills you'. She said all this while smiling, mind you." He gave her a dry look. "What a tyke..."

Narcissa wished this arrogant fool of a man would die soon.

Wished it on her bones...

"We accept your ultimatum!" Melania pitched-in, hastily, smiling widely and practically lurching in her chair.

Arcturus' eyes snapped to his wife. "Mel-!"

"I'm not going to let your pride jeopardize our future, Arty," she snapped, giving him a disapproving look. "Just give Viscaria back to Narcissa - a mother should never be parted with her child." She gave Narcissa a sympathetic smile - and Narcissa smiled back, but didn't really mean it considering how this woman had stood idly by as her husband and Cassiopeia had hurt their family, again and again. "Just give her Viscaria and we'll get Orion - our future will be secured."

"And, what about what they've done to us?" Arcturus snapped.

"What about what you've done to us?" Narcissa retorted.

"What about what we've done to them?" Melania snapped.

They all basically said this around about the same time, causing a moment of awkward silence between them. Yes, they have royally screwed each-other, so to speak - and, Arcturus, although very reluctant to admit this, wasn't completely cold and disconnected from this fact. You could see it in his eyes - the battle between pride, logic and a conscience that seemed to rage as he looked at her with those old, light green eyes.

"...Fine. But, if your family makes a move to disrupt this agreement," Arcturus said, coldly. "The deal is off."

Narcissa pursed her lips.

That meant she had to keep everyone in check before the papers went through.

"Deal."

This was going to be hard.

And, that was an understatement if she ever had thought one.

And, don't get her wrong here, however. Besides selling out Orion, the other guilt she felt was going behind Lucius' back - but, how many times had he gone around hers? Lucius was off somewhere doing Merlin knew what and she was stuck here.

She needed to do something.

She couldn't just do nothing as everything fell apart.

* * *

Lucius stared beyond the water-like charm that was in front of him.

Viscaria and Orion lay on two, little, comfy white beds. Resting like babies.

"...They're in a charmed sleep - a kindness, we thought. They still think they're home; they think the bad men came again, but you managed to save them both this time," Zabini informed; Lucius grit his teeth so hard they should have broke and felt his fists shake like he needed to punch something. "Probably living the best day of their lives that you never gave them."

They were so close...

If only he could just; almost as if his hand had a mind of it's own it had raised to the touch the water as if he could just grab them just like that...

"Ah!Ugh!" he let out a guttural yelp as a chilling shock spread across his body.

"Yes, did I forget to remind you there were 'precautions' put in place?" she said, her eyes flickering amusement like he was some kind of idiot joke. "Oh, don't touch it again; that was just a warning." He glared at her, composing himself. "Oh, don't be like that, Lucius."

"So, you want me to find so psychopathic murderer who may or may not be, but likely is, a Ministry Official and eliminate him," Lucius said, giving her a cold look. "Then, you will give me back Viscaria and Orion, safe and sound?"

"Why, yes," she said, nodding as if it was obvious. "Of course, good business demands a confirmation clause, doesn't it?" She offered her hand forward. "We'll swear it on a Magical Oath, if you like...?"

He almost wanted to say an 'Unbreakable Vow'. But, he realised that wasn't logical. If he failed, he still wanted a chance to save his children.

"Magical Oath it is," Lucius said tightly, taking her hand and feeling her claw-like nails brush against his skin.

Zabini smiled, glancing at one of her henchmen, who stepped forward with his wand raised.

In an instant, Lucius began to feel a lukewarm sensation as if a coiling sensation was moving between the surface and his body couldn't decide if it was ice or fire.

"Will you, Lucius Malfoy, promise to find the murderer that has been responsible for killing those in my service and under my protection and kill him?" Zabini asked, her voice firm and her face carefully blank.

He paused, sucking in a breath and puffing out his chest. "I will," he said - and she arched an eyebrow as if to tell him it was his cue to speak. "And, if I do this task, will you release Orion and Viscaria into my custody again?"

"I will," she replied, looking at him sincerely.

As soon as their hands parted, a red-haired man in a grey coat burst through the doors; the window to Viscaria and Orion suddenly disappeared and its place stood a regular-looking wall. "Red! There's been another murder!" he said, panting as if he'd run a great distance. "One of ours, it seems."

She turned to Lucius, a smirk curling on her lips as she leaned forward until he could feel the breath on his face. "Better get to work, Mr Malfoy," she whispered, each word a light punch against his ear, before turning to the man who'd just walked in. "Henry, right...?" He nodded, looking very pleased. "Show my friend the scene. I trust there won't any authorities-types sniffing about?"

"Yes. We covered it up before anyone could see, Red," 'Henry' said, standing straighter as if addressing a military commander. "Only had to memory charm one witness, some uppity woman on a late shopping spree. I stationed Nolton there to keep an eye on things while I rushed here to tell you."

"Wonderful work, Henry," Zabini complimented, making the man blush a little. "Well, Mr Willm - you better get going," she said, turning to Lucius with a smirk. "Well, what are you waiting for, old man...?"

Suppressing a sneer, Lucius nodded curtly.

He took bid to follow the Henry-fellow, with only one last glance to the wall where Viscaria and Orion had been.

* * *

It was odd when arriving at the scene, and at first, honestly, Lucius wasn't too sure that what he was seeing - but, at each step, the blankness gave way an inch to a shadow and soon enough a repugnant smell began to waft up his nose nostril, making him wrinkle his nose.

The first thing there was was the blood.

He smelled the familiar coppery tang of it first.

Then, he saw it was painted across the walls like some sluggish graffiti; sliding and dripping across the dark brick walls and the cobbled ground of the narrow alleyway like someone had got a spray-can or had taken a giant finger and just swipe it about like they were finger-painting.

The next thing he saw as the body. Wrapped in a purple dress that cut into tanned skin and strewn carelessly - arms splayed like a fallen angel. And, like red pathway trailed blood that slithered from the body to a yellow, dirty bundle just a few feet away from the corpse. It took Lucius a moment to realise that it was a head, who's hair had been wrapped around itself like a linen sheet to warm an infant.

Lucius slowly inched over to get a look at the woman's face, bending down to brush a few strands out of her face.

Red lips, dried and brittle from death.

Blue eyes, snapped wide with the ghost of fear that had lurked behind them.

Oh yes, he certainly knew who this was, he thought grimly.

This was one of the prostitute who'd helped him get a lead on where his children were.

"Victim's name is: Serafina Mirfield," informed the Henry-guy, looking grim, as he read from a black notebook. "26 years old. Half-blood. No Sexual Transmitted Diseases credited - damn, good stock wasted!" The man sighed, shaking his head as he looked at his companion, 'Nolton', who wore a leather jacket, black jeans and dragon-hide boots. "Let's hope the person who's done this pays."

"It's always the good ones," Nolton sighed, eyes roving the corpse. "Beauty like that. I'd shank him myself."

While those two idiots were jabbering, Lucius decided to get a closer look of the body. Right-off-the bat, he noticed something was odd - the flashy, ridiculous shoes she'd been wearing when he'd last seen her. Where were they? It's not like she'd walked barefoot here just to be murdered in a cold alley - those shoes could be, purposely or accidentally, have been left at the real scene of the crime.

Yes, the real scene of the crime.

This was a fake if he ever saw one. The blood splatter - it just seemed wrong for him, as an experienced, former Death Eater - the blood seemed like it had purposely been put there like the whole alley was a canvas - a stage.

The killer wants this body found, of course.

Then, he found something glint in the moonlight - a slip of silver tucked between the unfortunate girl's dry lips. He gingerly reached to touch it, only for a voice to shout that startled him...

"Don't touch that, please!" a familiar voice - oh, you've got be kidding! - cried.

Lucius Malfoy turned to find Theodore Nott Sr. - really? Did the man think that a different, uglier pair of leopard-spotted, horn-rimmed glasses, a drably grey, bulky coat and an ugly fedora hat would disguise him that well? Anyway, the idiot was rushing towards him with a look akin to horror as his hand was dramatically stretched out like in a pantomime.

Lucius just stared. "What...?"

Nott Sr. smiled, the smile crinkling his face in an unflattering way. "Don't touch that note, you know?" he said brightly, pressing the clip-board to his chest. "It dissolves after someone's read it - I really want to see it first, because I want to study the graphology of it."

"Right..." Lucius drawled, staring dryly.

Nott's smile slowly dimmed, as he narrowed his eyes at Lucius. "You know... you look really familiar," Nott said in his nasal voice - drawing out every syllable like he was looking at the greatest puzzle in existence.

"I get that a lot..." Lucius said, half-heartedly.

"Do you, really?" he replied, smile brightening as if he'd learned something new. "That must be great! Oh, have you been mistaken for a celebrity? Did you get to sign autographs, then laugh at their tear-stricken faces when they realised they'd been had?"

Lucius sighed, rubbing his temple. "...Yes, sure."

"Great!" Nott shook his hand, enthusiastically. He was grinning so happily that Lucius almost felt nauseous; it was no wonder the man's son always seemed so depressed. "I'm Ted Tonte!"

Ugh.

What was this, anyway...?

Was Adonia going to come out the shadows too? Was Geoffrey? Raqib? Diana? Romaisa? What were all his family's 'friends' leading double-lives as criminals or whatever? Were they all going to have a party in Knockturn Alley or something, dancing around the corpses and stripper poles with firewhiskey in their bellies...?

Oh, fuck his damn life.

"Bruno Willm," Lucius said flatly, wishing he was anywhere else. "Why are you here?"

"I have a friend who lets me have a crack at the bodies, Bruno Willm," Nott said, raising his finger enthusiastically. "I love my work - and I'm always willing to do a little extra any twenty-four hour-seven, Bruno!" Nott paused, looking nervous for a moment. "I can call you Bruno, right...?"

Ah, yes.

Now, he remembered. Nott was the Chief Medi-Examiner for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement - a brilliant one at that - and most corpses ended up on his table. And, Zabini and him had seemed rather chummy these past few years, hadn't they? Although, it seemed more condescension of Zabini's part that Nott really wouldn't really notice even if she hit him over the head with a mallet full of it.

Lucius noticed Nott looking at him expectantly, that bright smile fixed on his face as always. "Aren't you going to look at the body, then?" he sighed, already feeling too tired to live.

"Already did a quick-overview while we were chatting?" Nott said, proudly and looking very excited. "The body's mostly preserved, besides the detached head deal." He gave a nervous laugh, making Lucius' eye twitch. "Look at that skin - no bruises, no wounds, no cave in. It's almost like the killer lulled her into death-"

Lucius arched an eyebrow. "So, he initially used the killing curse?"

"Nope. Look at her tongue - it's almost as black as that time I found this mole on my private parts," Nott laughed, awkwardly - and, Lucius noticed the Nolton-goon and the Henry-goon turn green. "And, I tell you, I woke one morning and that was like the blackest-"

"Yes, yes - get on with it," Lucius snapped.

Nott's smile dimmed a little. "Well... you see that blackness on her tongue. I'd say poison, probably - about eighty-five percent chance," he continued, his brightness returning at his favourite hobbie. "I won't be able to tell which until I can take a swab and test it with my chemistry kit, although." Lucius arched an eyebrow; did this man think he was twelve or something? "I bet you a twenty-five Galleons, she was having a nice dinner with a mysterious, charming customer - and, then she's like..." Nott's voice became high-pitched. "'Oh sorry, sexy customer, I've got a lump in my throat' - cough, cough, cough - DEAD!"

Why?

Why was he stuck with Nott of all people on this damn earth!?

Why must he have to suffer like this?

Lucius gave a weak smile as the dark-haired wizard pretended - quite unfortunately - that he was choking with his hands clasped around his throat. "It sounds like you've really thought this through," Lucius said, smiling tightly to the complete, utter freak.

"Well, it is my job!" Nott chuckled, smiling. He gave another glance at the scene. "I think we've all noticed that she was just dumped, her remains waiting to found!" Lucius noticed Zabini's goons shift, looking a little embarrassed. "I mean; the kind of troll-brain who thinks she was murdered here probably gets bamboozled a lot in their life!"

Lucius had a feeling that Nott wasn't well liked by, well, anyone, judging by the amount of glares the man was receiving. Then again, it didn't exactly colour him shock...

Sighing, Lucius then buttoned-up his coat and turned on the spot. "I think I've heard enough," he said to the obviously unhinged and even more annoying man, whose odd-looking face fell into disappointment as soon as the words left his mouth. "I've got some light night work to get to."

"Well, it was nice meeting, Bruno!" he said, sadly, clasping his hands and shaking them. Although, Nott quickly perked up when he saw Zabini's goons as if for the first time, beginning to walk towards them as they, themselves, slowly began to edge away. "Hey, guys...!"

Lucius sighed, shaking his head as he walked away.

This was going to be a lot of work.

* * *

_She wanted to wake up._

* * *

**Author's notes: Yep, well here's another chapter and we got some of Mr Nott. I hope you liked it.**


	20. Chapter 19: Dark Corners

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Chapter 19: Dark Corners**

* * *

**6th August, 1987**

* * *

It was cold.

He sighed, blowing a strand of floppy, sandy-blond hair out his face. Oh,he really wanted a fag, but smoking turned a few people off so he probably shouldn't - even if nobody was around yet!

It. Bloody. Sucked.

All he knew was this was probably gonna be a long wait considering he was working a pretty desolate corner tonight. Maybe he should move his arse, but sometimes a few diamonds in the rough took this route on a night out.

All though, there didn't seem to be anyone now.

He looked at his sister's watch.

Midnight.

"Hello there..." said a silky voice.

He turned around with his most dazzling smile...

* * *

_Wake up!_

_Wake up!_

_Wake up!_

Viscaria's eyes snapped open to a blurry world.

Even as her head thudded like in tune with a giant's heartbeat, her first instinct was to move, to get up and run...

She couldn't. No matter how hard she willed her little limbs, they were too heavy. Weighed down like chains had trapped them. Her second instinct was to scream - but her lips may have part an inch or not at all, and no scream came.

She tried to thrash. She tried to scream.

It was a total disconnect.

All she felt was a pressing weight all over her as if something was trying to drag her down. Like her body had betrayed her and she was just going along for the ride. She was fighting a monster that wanted to crush her until she shattered into a million pieces and she was weak...

_She was tired..._

Her vision dimmed.

_Just so tired..._

Black spots appearing like a little slugger was knocking out the lights bit by bit.

The darkness claimed her yet again...

The darkness..._ gave way to a beautiful day underneath the lovely sun cradled by a deep blue sky. _

_The fat golden birds chirped._

_"My name is Caltia."_

_It was such a pretty thing._

_It was a shame it was in the cage she was holding and not the sky above.__ Her finger touched the lock of the cage._

_"Please don't set me free. I'm too heavy," it chirped to her. "Don't worry. I like it here."_

_Why wouldn't it? The grass was as green as green could be. The umbrella had sprouted out the grass like trees, the canopies blossoming. T__he blanket was laid out, full of delicious food and drink. _

_Her mother smiled, the best she could without a face. "It's a wonderful day, isn't it, Viscaria?" she said - her calm voice, as always - like music, like the birds. She offered her lemonade._

_She took it. "Yes, it is." She sipped it. _

_"I see you've started without me." It was her father's chuckle. "Day too lovely for you." She was his little girl, his worlds - the warmth of his presence told her this, even if she couldn't see where he was lurking._

_Orion piped in. "Why does Viscaria get more lemonade and mint ice cream than me?"_

_Her mother laughed, the best she could without a face. "Because she's better than you, Orion." She shook her head, her beautiful, long, golden hair swung about her, almost out of sync with the rest of her body - as if in slow motion so it could be admired truly. _

_Viscaria almost wanted to reach out and grab it. _

_She'd rip it from her mother's skull and wear it as her own._

_Orion piped in. "Viscaria, do you want to play Queen's Land?" _

_He took her hand and she let him lead her down the grassy verge. __Yes, she'd quite like that. __Almost as if he'd read her mind, Orion smiled and told her, "Knew you would!"_

_Brick by brick, stone by stone, a castle of pink began to erect itself from the ground - the grandest castle she'd ever seen. _

_Her summer dress made of viscaria flowers faded away; she was wrapped in pink and silk, an evening dress. Its long sleeves dwarfed her arms, the cone-shaped henin and its golden wrapping heavy on her head._

_"Let's go in, Viscaria," he chuckled, dragging her to the draw-bridge._

_She nearly stumbled, her leg catching and breaking through the brambles and thorns. _

_She wanted to tell him he was running her little feet ragged. That he was, he was dragging her too fast! She opened her mouth to tell him to slow down, but all that came out was nothing._

_She had no voice._

_Orion wasn't dragging her. _

_It was a__ smiling girl in a white dress, dripping honey for hair and dull diamonds for eyes. It was a__ girl with sharp rubies for teeth, a__ girl in a dress made of snow white snow and spoiling __milk for her skin._

_She clawed._

_She struggled, silently shrieking._

_She was dragged into the castle and..._

She woke up, inhaling sharply.

Quiet as a statue, her eyes took in a world blurry, wetness on her cheeks. She stayed like this for a long time, Merlin knew how long...

Her eyes slowly slid around, almost lolled. There was Orion, laying on the bed beside her's, wrapped in white sheets, as soft breaths passing through his lips. She watched him, watched him shift a little, listened to his breathe and a snore or two; it was peaceful...

It was wrong.

She frowned weakly, pushing herself up a little off the bed, ignoring how her arm trembled, her eyes swiveled about.

The room was a box with white walls and a black-tiled floors. There was also a metal pole near each of their beds and attached to it was a bag of clear fluid - eyes following the tubes, she noticed one was attached to Orion's wrist while hers seemed to be dripping on the floor.

_Why was she here...?_ She looked around, narrowing her eyes. _What was here...?_

Feeling a cold numbness, she looked around trying to find any sort of way out of this box. There was none, at least none she could see right now.

Just then, there was a sort of sizzling sound that she couldn't describe beyond that and the left wall flickered. Immediately, she slid back down into her bed like serpent and waited for what was to come - her hands pressed together like an angel and her face peacefully content, as she even let out a light snooze or two.

"...Just re-attach the damn drip. We have to keep feeding 'em, Bastion," a male voice came, a bit of a rough voice at that, but rather young sounding. "Must have got loose in their sleep."

"Someone must've attach it improperly," another voice said.

There was a long sigh. "You, you mean."

Her ears pricked, as she heard footsteps coming towards her. "...Hey, the damn things tricky, Scabior... Don't know why we can't just shove a potion down their throats or what?" Bastion asked - or, at least, who she presumed was 'Bastion' - and, she noted his voice was quite coarse and blunt.

"Oh, come on, it's easier when done right, damn plonker. If you attach it properly this time we don't have to come back," Scabior sighed, and Viscaria felt a strange pressing and pressing into her arm, almost sliding - she'd couldn't say it hurt, but it was strange and she had to pressed her lips tight so few giggles didn't escape. Then, the pressure stopped, but her arm still felt weird. "There... easy."

"I don't know. This Muggle-bullshit confuses me, Scabior," Bastion sighed.

"'Cause, you're an idiot. It's pretty simple easy; I 'ear they're gonna be introducing these 'drips' to Saint Mungo's. Means the Healers won't have to mill about all the time to get to feed the patient," Scabior snorted. "I reckon Red Hornet's going to pitch in her bit since Saint Mungo's likes getting things... at a bargain."

"Heh hah, the amount of shit we've sold them..." the other wizard barked with a guttural laugh, as she heard the footsteps move away.

"Fuckin' skint bastards, though..." And, with that, she heard another sizzling sound and the room was encased in silence, aside from Orion's light breathing.

And with that, she heard another sizzling sound and the room was encased in silence, aside from Orion's light breathing.

Cracking her eye open once more, she found the same four, white walls and the same black-tiled floor. Amusing, there was now a tube jammed in her arm - pressed in by a sticky-feeling, white material.

She glanced at Orion.

How long were they going to be stuck here? How long until someone noticed she was awake? How could she and Orion escape if he wasn't awake? She absently raised her hand to her hair...

Her lip twitched when she felt the cool metal of her hairpin grazed her finger. It wasn't much, but at least it was something.

So, she waited.

She'd wait for a very long while.

But, at the bottom of a pit, all you could do was look up.

* * *

When Lucius had apparated into the Atrium, he was rather glad it was so early. It wasn't that there weren't some overworked witches and wizards stumbling about, wiping the sleep from their eyes, but thankfully there were hardly as much as there would be in a few hours; after all, he didn't want to recognised, and his workplace made his disguise feel even more parchment-thin.

He made his way to the lift, trying to ease the tenseness of his shoulders.

The golden grille clattered open and a red-nosed, yawning wizard stumbling out, much to Lucius' chagrin not even apologising when he nearly bumped into him.

"Ingrate..." Lucius murmured under his breathe, stepping into the lift. It began to descend down into the depths of the Ministry.

Stepping into the reception of his office, he was quite sure he'd caused his secretary quite the scare. She had been checking over the re-draft for his and Umbridge's Werewolf Safety Legislation, which was due Monday. The fresh case of poor little Evan Parkinson, ripped to shreds on a full moon, was something to capitalise on. The dedicated youngster she was, dutifully working over-time... he'd actually inconveniently forgotten that habit as he burst into his office...

...Still in his disguise.

"Sir... do you have an appointment booked?" Jacoba asked, warily looking him up and down. She looked hardly impressed by the dirt on his shoes and the slight unkempt nature of 'dark' long hair; not bright enough to realise that someone who wore material even this fine was obviously a person of account.

He'd almost snapped at her, that was his first instinct, however he supposed he would be rather unrecognisable. It was probably especially the case to someone who spent more time nervously looking at the marble floor while addressing him than looking right in the eye.

"Oh, I think you'll find I don't need one..." he drawled, flicking his wand underneath his sleeve. His hair flickered, before turning back to its natural blond, he seemed decrease in size a little, and his crooked nose became aquiline and prominent. The weak chin he was sporting became sharper, more pointed and his eyes lightened until they were his usual steel grey. The transformation was nearly instantaneous, and the reaction even more so.

She gaped at him, looking like a fish. "M-Mr Malfoy?"

He felt his lip twitch. "The one and only..."

"I apologise for being so callous!" she said hastily, but he waved his hand dismissively, making her breathe a relieved sigh. "...Is there anything that I can help you with? Is it about the draft, because I'm confident it'll be a knockout when I'm done - I swear-"

He shook his head, opening one of his cabinets. "No, thank you, I'm sure it'll be fine," he said absently, looking through the stacked papers. "I'm just looking for something..."

"Something or someone...?" she asked, almost blurted out.

He paused, turning to give her a hard look. "I think that's my business, don't you...?" he said, before he went back to looking through the records for - no - no - no - no - damn it!

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she had gone back to typing on the draft on a typewriter; her damn curiosity wasn't stifled though as she kept glancing over at him when she thought he wasn't looking.

She spoke up again about a minute later. "...It's just that, sir - is there any way I can help?" And, from her tone, it was clear she was bursting to say something more.

"No, thank you," he said dryly, as he continued his work.

She paused. "But, I..."

"How many times do I have to say 'no thank you' before you understand, Ms Blishwick?" he snapped, turning to give her a cold glare. "Is the 'thank you' confusing you into thinking its a suggestion somehow? Because, I'll be sure to be less polite in the future."

"Sorry."

And, what he'd said seemed to shut her up for a little while as she promptly swung herself back into typing up the draft, the chinking away of the typewriter being the only source of sound in the room...

"If you're looking for a close friend, try the Ministry's Private Archives," she said suddenly, not even looking up as her eyes continued to be trained on her work.

He was about to snap at her again when her words fully registered in his head. Of course! Swiftly turning on the spot, he quickly strode to the door.

He stopped at the threshold, at a nagging thought.

"Thank you..."

He swiftly left the room, ignoring the smug curl of his secretary's lips as she continued to type away.

* * *

Of course, knowing his luck, he had to run into an idiot along the way. Honestly, where did the Ministry pick up these people?

The pudgy and pink-faced man with grey slicked tightly back to the point he looked like a rat stared at him, sternly. "Those archives are confidential." The man adjusted his thick, round-framed spectacles, giving him a distasteful look that made him want to throw the idiot into a furnace and watch the piggy burn.

"What's your name?" Lucius said sharply.

"...Reginald Dodworth," the wizard swallowed dryly, puffing his chest out and pressing his mouth into a firm line.

Lucius frowned, his mouth creasing thoughtfully for a moment. "As in related to Mr Dodworth who was at Twilfitt and Tattings?" he said absently, vaguely remembering his wife's glowing recommendation of the man's work ethic.

"My brother," he said sadly, looking down.

Ah, yes. They'd never found a trace of the rabbit-faced wizard. "...Okay, Reginald. Let's cut the hogwash. I expect you know who I am...?" Lucius said, arching an eyebrow.

Dodworth frowned, his brow scrunching a little. "Mr Malfoy..."

Lucius looked at him patronisingly. "Very good. And, if you get in my way, soon the world will know yours nearly as much as they know mine. But, Dodworth-the-molester. Far less kindly, I'm afraid."

"What!?"

"Oh, that's what will be in print in the Daily Prophet tomorrow if you don't let me through," he drawled,sneering malevolently. "Before you ask, I know it isn't true. But, they'll take one look at your ugly mug - crinkled, stained shirt, cheap tie, cheap everything - and, that's all it will take. People are very prejudice that way..."

"I-I have a wife..."

"...You really should take care of your appearance more. But, still, of course, you could just... let me shift through these records for as long as I like, couldn't you?" Lucius said thoughtfully. "Then, I might overlook your sideline activities and, subsequent, inevitably terrible mugshot this time..."

And, soon enough, Lucius was shifting through the Financial records. The power of blackmail made people most gracious.

Of course, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Lucius wasn't sure how long he'd been doing this searching, but the dusk on the horizon spoke of hours. It must have been around four or five o'clock...

Still, there was nothing besides the usual corruption.

"Damn it," he muttered, throwing a file about the Sanitarium and Repair report for the Magical Maintenance Department aside.

He knew it was a slim shot but he'd hoped that a suspect had used the Floo-Network at suspicious times, but that hadn't panned out. Surprisingly, there was a large amount of workers who used the network, to the point it was clogged with at least twenty people consistently into even the early hours of the morning. Any evidence there was buried.

"Ugh," he groaned, throwing a half-read document about the Cauldron Thickness budget aside. These records were endless and nothing stood out beyond the usual. Sure, a few Ministry working late had Floo-ed out of here pretty late into the bewitching hour, but there was nothing that was 'strange' - nothing that gave him a gut-feeling.

He hissed through his teeth, slamming his hands against the cabinet and ignoring the ringing pain. Viscaria and Orion were in danger! And, he was pretty sure Zabini wouldn't be waiting till Christmas for results! It was either a quick solution with her or the deal was off just like that, and he could only afford a quick solution. Not only that, but if he took too long, the Backs would surely...

Then, his eye caught something.

In one of the slots of the financial table - Merlin be praised - there was an irregularity and another... and another. They were quite thick strokes that didn't correspond... with the finances - they were off, the numbers and the dates didn't quite add up.

His eyes slid to an interesting detail that kept turning up. There was a suspiciously/possibly seedy hotel inbetween Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley, the Prickly Rose.

The excuse here was that it was Ministry Wizengamot Administration business venues when mediating legal trade disputes between local businesses that hadn't reached the Wizengamot due to their docility. What struck him as strange were a fair few of the names - "The Dragon's Hostel', 'The Cauldron's Inn', 'The Witches' Tit' and so on - were all establishments he'd never heard of.

Perhaps, it was because he didn't sully himself with...

But, all these names were too unfamiliar. And, what was even stranger was the pattern. In all the supposed meeting, there was a Ministry Official who'd presided over the settlements, a Mr Ghonik who religiously stayed at the Prickly Rose hotel in rooms 101, 102 and 105.

He narrowed his eyes.

And while it kept turning up, its values and costs were never added to the totals in the documents as if someone didn't want anyone to notice that they were more than a few Galleons over the predicted budgets...

It said the total was four thousand Galleons over the past year. The total should have been five and half Galleons! Now, he'd never heard the surname 'Ghonik' either. Was he a half-blood or... a mud-blood... he wrinkled his nose at the latter.

Eitherway, this was suspicious...

He smirked.

This certainly warranted checking and he had just the man to do the sleuthing, Albert Greengrass...

His ears pricked at incoming footsteps.

Tucking the papers in his coat pockets, he swiftly turned around and began to stride out the room - seeing a flash a black bob and cat-eye glasses of a Ministry worker, he halfheartedly gave curt nod as passed by and he went through the door.

It was time to put what he discovered to the test...

* * *

The wait was excruciating.

Viscaria slapped Orion in the face. His head lolled to the side, but he didn't stir further. Orion Black was dead to the world - and she'd almost have believed that literally if the light breaths confirmed that he wasn't.

"..._Mem, uhm, it's ah bab, eh..._" he mumbled incomprehensibly, not the slightest bit await. He was also drooling.

"I hate you... sometimes," she murmured to herself, scowling.

She played the sleeping cub for hours; the only thing stopping her from screaming in frustration and clawing the next wizard or witches eyes out being her ever-dwindling but persevering patience. What was the use of despair when an opportunity would present itself any minute if she just continued to wait. It was so close, she could almost just taste it, the moment would come. She'd tried to prepare for whatever may happen.

There was nothing of use in this room, all it was was a brick box with two plain beds. Maybe, she could hit them with the metal stand that had the drips...? She shook her head because it looked like she'd have to rely on a little hairpin to do the job, which was quite disconcerting but typical.

Orion had begun to drool all over his pillow, his mouth so wide she could see the back of his throat. "_Vis-Vis, Vis, Vis, Vis..._" he babbled stupidly, and Viscaria could only hope that wasn't her name his mouth was butchering.

Sighing, she jumped back on her bed, pulling the covers up and closing her eyes.

Glancing at Orion, she noted he was still sleeping like a baby to the point he'd even sucked his thumb a couple times. She almost envied that ignorance, _almost_. She would never be dead-weight like him... She smiled a smile that quickly twisted into a feral grin. Whatever this was, spell or potion, she had broken it, not Orion Black, but her, Viscaria Malfoy. If that wasn't a sign of great power...

_"...Vis, Vis... Mintp is greEn... kaka..."_

She frowned, peeking eyes open to glance at Orion.

It was a thought she hadn't even considered, a useless curiosity. _What was he dreaming about? _Her own paradise had been frightfully boring, despite certain benefits like Draco's absence and Orion's... well... anyway, what was his dream about? She felt her curiosity bubble, trying to wonder.

"..._Mey... da, hmmm, Mum, Mum... Lordie Black...ly ly..._"

She'd call it adorable if she didn't want to hurl. Especially at the last name. Who'd want that monster in their dreams (unless, of course, you got the murder him over and over, again!). Orion was obviously more mentally unstable than she had thought, to the point that he probably needed to be referred back to Saint Mungo's for the next century!

Her ears pricked at that sizzling sound, again. She closed her eyes and shifted back into her bed, trying to look as comfortably asleep as possible.

After a few moments, she peaked eye open for a brief moment to see the blurry figures of two people entering the room. One of them looked like a woman, the other a man - so they weren't just a two wizard show, which made sense. She could guess from the angle they may have come left, meaning there might be a kind of door or passageway there that was invisible most of the time, but of course she couldn't be sure.

"Its got a few hours left on the bags. I doubt they'll use it all," a bored male voice came.

There was a snort. "Reckon they'll have the last drops if they go early?"

"They're not drugs, Vicky. They're just there to make sure they don't starve," said the male voice in irritation.

They left soon after, the sizzling sound announcing their departure. She contemplated the encounter. It seemed she didn't have much time, she'd have to act fast! Now, if Orion could wake up, that would be great! But, no, Orion wasn't like her - he was weaker, weak enough to succumb to the delusion they'd put in their heads, suckling his thumb like a newborn, mumbling happily, and always with a sleepy smile on his face.

It all just seemed to piss her off to no end.

It was then, a thought occurred to her. _It was not like they were going to hurt the Black heir_... it was obvious that they wanted him, and everyone said it was alive. A satisfied smile split on her face as she thought about how she could bring back help! Yes... she could bring help, it was better than just waiting here, feeling every second. Sure, it was almost a betrayal, an abandonment, but it wasn't. She was being rationale, not making emotions cloud her judgement so she could help them in the long run!

She snorted._ It wasn't like he'd notice_... his fake, new family were proving much better company than his real one ever did, it must be bliss for him in imagination land. She should-

Her ears pricked.

There it was. The tell-tale sizzling noise.

It looked like she'd waited long enough because soon enough the footsteps were getting closer and she almost smiled because it was only one pair. Finally, only one person was in the room with no back up.

In preparation, she'd carefully placed her hand behind her head, where the edge of the hairpin rested. Oh, they should have taken it off her, but she supposed people underestimated something so simple as hair decorations a little when you had wands. She couldn't even imagine herself doing much damage with it, unless she got the right angle like last-time.

She felt a shiver run up her spine, not completely unpleasant.

At best, it would surprise them enough to give her a chance to escape.

After a few moments, the footsteps eventually came closer to her and she could hear the strange sound - cracking her eyes open for a second, she saw he was unfastening the fluid bag from the pole and replacing it with a new one. She closed her eyes for a second, then lurched forward on the bed-

The wizard gasped.

-and, when he tried to grab her she jammed the ornate hairpin right into his palm, causing him to howl and for to run forward - the hairpin twisting in his palm for just and moment, sprinkles of blood falling as the hairpin left his hand just as fast as it had came.

She ran towards the flickering, shimmering wall, willing herself not to even sparing a glance at Orion. She'd get help, she get help, yes...

Panic seized her as she felt the hot on her neck.

She dodged.

Just in time for a red light to bash into the wall, as she slid through into another room - well, more of a hallway - and, ran in the first direction she could see. The wood thudding against her feet, every step she took as skidded across the wood floors.

Seeing a lamp with a candle inside, her feet screeched as she grabbed with a hard pull from the wall and threw it to ground. Flames instantly flicking in her eyes - lighting the floor - as she turned to run, barely avoiding a purple flashed that brushing past her and making a black mark on the wall.

She couldn't help but let a small shriek, throwing her arms up, as splinters seemed to dislodge from the force of the spell and nearly hit her.

She felt a chill. _Were they trying to kill her...?_

"Not that spell! We need 'er alive, fuckin' idiot!"

Well, apparently not - she gritted her teeth - they were just idiots!

Her feet stamped down the stairs and she found herself in a dark basement, surrounded by all sorts of odd boxes and other rubbish that made a sort of maze to weed through. Hearing the thudding footsteps on the stairs, Viscaria bolted to the nearest box to hide behind.

The voices grew louder. The footsteps more thunderous. She needed to get out of here, fast.

Skulking around the mountains of boxes, her ears were pricked like a fox and her feet just as cautious, sliding into a dark corner as two goons marched past calling her name - she scowled in the dark, as if they thought she was dumb enough to reveal herself because of that.

Blissful, boring dreams could wait forever. She had a life to get back to.

Skulking around the boxes, her hand incidentally dipped into one and she felt the smooth plastic feeling that made her look down. She almost gasped, but clasped her hands against her mouth.

Squashed in a box, in a see-through bag, was the body of a woman wrapped in a black dress. She had short, brown hair, really thick, plump lips and doe-like, brown eyes. She wasn't very pretty; there was a lack of grace about her and she was very unlike someone as beautiful as her mother - there was a lacking, almost like a doll-ness to this corpse.

The horror seemed to slip away, as she looked down on the corpse.

It was sort of pitiful.

One moment living and breathing and then the next dead and stuffed in storage. One moment there, the next gone - and, judging by how worn the body looked, she doubted anyone much cared about this woman or else they'd have given her a proper funeral by this point.

Pathetic.

She sneered in disgust.

Freezing, she heard footsteps, slinking back into the shadows as footsteps clicked (?) against the gravel. Closing her eyes for a moment and slowing her breath, she realised that it was even darker than it had been before...

She cracked it open to see a slim figure blocking the light - although there was this strange, golden-ish silvery glitter surrounding her from the light - with her hands on her hips and looking right at her.

"Look who's hiding away in the corner..." the smooth voice of Mrs Zabini remarked...

Viscaria gritted her teeth.

* * *

His objective was clear.

Albert had been most helpful. Mr Ghonik was a half-blood recluse living in the Canary Islands - and, yes, he was still an active member of the Wizengamot, just as active as a snail. It seemed that someone had taken his identity and starting using his credentials for a hotel service.

One that started just around the time of the murders.

The hotel was even in the general vicinity of the murders, even.

Lucius smirked as strode down the street. Then, he felt a prickling on his neck. He whirled around to find the street empty. Strange, for a second he'd thought...?

Looking hard for a few more moments, Lucius narrowed his eyes. "_Homenum Revelio" _he incanted non-verbally, flicking his wand, but these was nothing of note in the area.

He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He must have been getting paranoid - but, no, it just seemed like he was just a little on edge, which was justifiable considering the situation he supposed if a little embarrassing. Straightening out his collar, he crept around the corner to the backalley.

At least finding this place wasn't too difficult, thankfully the archives had been quite detailed. Thankfully indeed, because the place was rather nondescript with its small, worn bricks and small windows; although, perhaps it was more extravagant at the front of the property.

Pausing, he craned his neck around the corner to survey the environment.

There was a guard leaning lazily against one of the doors.

"Stupefy..."

The guard slid down the door and into a puddle on the ground in a moment, stunned with his mouth agape. Lucius smirked, as he walked past the unconscious guard - he paused, and then used his wand to tie up the body and throw him in a dumpster, as he really didn't wand the man discovered and his cover blown.

Then, he creaked the door open and stepped into the hall...

The hotel was gloomy, most of the light coming from the torches and candles aligning the walls. Very macabre in design. The deep red carpet and the creaking floorboards underneath, the dark mahogany of the walls and the winding of the building which seemed old like most places.

He wrinkled his nose.

It would surprise him if mold was growing in all the lavatories.

His ears pricking, he slid back into the shadows, watching as a couple of young women walked past.

"...Oh Merl, he said that...?"

"...Totally amped, I'd say..."

Lucius rolled his eyes as they walked past - it was almost like listening to his wife's little gossip group. It was amazing how people found a hundred words to say nothing, but a lot of people seemed to have mastered it.

Withholding a sigh, he cautiously edged to the corner and scanned the area. The hallway seemed to be empty - and the lift to the far side didn't have anyone coming down or up it at the moment, judging from how none of the numbered lights were flashing.

He couldn't just go up there like this.

After all, he needed the element of surprise for something like this. After a few moments, a maid walked past with - and, he contemplate but, Merlin, no... So, he waited a little longer.

After few more chatting guests have gone by, he noticed that a young steward was going about his work, nearby.

Noting that nobody was there, well...

"Stupefy."

Now dressed in a steward uniform, which was quite uncomfortable and itchy with its cheap fabric, he began to stride cautious but confidently down the hall. Eventually, he came across 105, which was the third door on his list.

He smartly knocked on it, before clasping his hands behind his back like a proper steward although unlike one his wand hidden in said clasped hands. "Room service," he called out as brightly as he thought a steward would.

Ears sharp, Lucius' heard some shuffling and muffling behind the door for a few moments.

Then, the door opened...

* * *

**AN: Sorry if this is a bit on the slow side, but I've finally finished all my exams - yay! Anyway, please review and tell me what you think - feedback is like my cake, good or bad!**


	21. Chapter 20: Smoky Mirrors

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 20: Smoky Mirrors**

* * *

**6th August, 1987**

* * *

The scene was rather clean.

But, Lucius Malfoy knew death enough to detect the faint musk of blood that not even a rushed cleaning charm could fully banish. There was a light damp on the fine, dark wood of the floorboards, a few stray scratch on the furniture, the walls and the floorboards that hadn't been covered up in time and, of course, a little of that ever familiar smoky smell of dark magic that seemed to cling to anything it touched.

Yes, certainly something had happened here.

What was strange was how all the curtains were drawn.

Lucius smiled brightly, almost hurting his jaw. "Room service..." he repeated, brightly to...

Was that Avonn Mulciber... really? Merlin, had the man let himself go. There were a fair few wrinkles, a few more grey hairs and an inability to control some rather weird, still threatening, facial expressions.

He kept his surprise hidden behind a mask.

"I didn't ask for room service?" Avonn saod, his voice even softer than he remembered.

Lucius shook his head. "It's customary for this fine establishment to have a rota. We'll pop in once and while to see if there's anything we can do to make the service the best it can possibly be!" he said, brightly - like some of the stewards would talk to him when he went to a hotel. "Is there anything extra you need... sir?"

The black-haired wizard paused, looking thoughtful. "Could you get me a prostitute, quick, pretty-boy?"

"...Oh. I see - what kind?" Lucius asked, straining to keep condescension from dripping into his voice.

Avonn paused as if thinking some more. "An ugly one - male or female, I'm not picky," the ridiculous man, leering at some dark, disturbing fantasy you could almost nearly see play out in his eyes. "The pretty ones are boring now..."

"Are they?" Lucius replied, not being able to prevent himself from raising an eyebrow.

"That's the funny thing about beauty. You can strip away the flesh and we're all really the same," Avonn chuckled, shaking his head and giving Lucius a strangely sympathetic look. "I understand that it's a bit of an odd request, but I need more jollies. I'll give you a very grateful tip..."

Lucius smiled, reaching slowly for his wand.

He knew Avonn and he knew that the paranoid man wasn't going to let him leave this room. Lucius whipped out his wand just as Avonn whipped out his own. They were locked in a stand-still, staring at each-other - Avonn looking quite curious at him.

"Either you've got really good reflexes for a steward or you've come to kill me?" Avonn said, raising an eyebrow. "What did I do? Did I kill one of your friends? Was it the one who gave killer heads, because I'm sorry..." Avonn shook his head, sighing. "But, at least, his death was a little less gruesome than the others...!" Lucius narrowed his eyes, looking for an opening. "Or, was it that woman with-?"

"Flipendo," Lucius snapped, and Avonn went crashing into the wall with wide eyes. The force was so hard, he was stunned for less than a second. "Avada Kedarva," Lucius snapped again, as quick as he could, and a flash of green light zoomed towards the man.

You could see the light in the man's eyes, wide with euphoria, as he just barely dodged by using an armrest to push himself down. "...Or, are you an agent from heaven?" Avonn wheezed, on the floor, scrambling among the splinters to behind the ornate furniture. "Merlin, those reflexes of yours - Imperius! - Oh, nice dodge there."

Avonn must have really been desperate for a real battle because his silent insanity gave way to an excited insanity and honestly, Lucius wasn't sure which one was more grating - not that it would matter in a few minutes.

Lucius heard rushing footsteps from behind him and the click of the door, and with two flashes of green light he killed one of Avonn's goons... but, the other managed to swiftly dodge out the way, taking cover and elongating her fangs...

"Kill him, Adze!" Avonn screamed from somewhere and the vampire lunged.

Feeling too damn old for this, Lucius had to both dodge a curse and the lunging vampire-goon, pointing wand at the floor where two very shiny, expensive shoes were just peaking out from a small corner. "Bombastic!" he snapped, making the wall explode outwards and ground shake.

The room was bathed in the morning light.

Which was a good thing since the disgusting vampire's fangs were just an inch or two from his pale throat.

The vampire-goon screamed against the sun, flashing away for cover. The trouble with being a so-called elite-killer of a vampire was you very quickly turned into a victim when your were deathly allergic to the sun!

Avonn had been sent careening from the shockwave of the explosion, towards the edge of what was left of the room. "Aahah - aha - oh!" Avonn trembled on the edge like he was an amateur on a tightrope as the wind blew hard, his eyes wide as he stared down at the many floors below.

He was like a sitting duck.

Lucius smirked as he raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra," he said quickly, and as the green light rushed towards Avonn, the man just managed to get his footing and... jumped off the building!

Lucius rushed to the edge.

Avonn had his wand pointed straight to the ground and bounced like he'd hit trampoline... running down the crowded street, and bashing past busybodies.

"Well, this is interest-...?" he heard a female voice begin...

Glancing back to see some maid, Lucius jumped down soon in a blink, the rushing wind instantly defeaning his ears as he pointed he wand to the incoming, cobbled ground and shouted at the top of his lungs a spell between life and death.

"Arresto Momentum."

And, his body slowed like a parking broomstick, so instantly he almost thought his stomach would burst through his skin the way it dropped - and, a metre or two from the ground he hovered before falling and landing in a crouched position on his feet.

Catching he breath, and making sure he didn't throw up on the cobblestones, he shakily rose to his feet.

Forehead clammy with slight sweat.

Oh, Merlin.

"What the fu-?"

Lucius bolted forward, bashing past the continuously stunned shoppers, sending one woman careening through Ollivanders shop door with a yelp and his eyes widely searched for his target.

Where was he?

He narrowed his eyes.

Where was that bastard...?

He caught a glimpse of Avonn slipping into a narrow alleyway, Lucius sped up.

"Hey!" an authoritative voice yelled.

Lucius glanced back to see an Auror in the standard grey uniform reaching for his wand. He easily dodged the sloppy Impediment jinx the Auror sent his way, dashing down into an alleyway and chasing the back of Avonn through the narrowing, winding corners of it.

"Oppugno!" Lucius flicked his wand back, the posters on the shop windows flew about like falcons to attack everyone in sight, including the Auror, in the open area he'd left behind.

Lucius continued to run, his breath labouring.

A streak of red light smashed into a cobbled wall right next to him. He glanced back to find the same, obviously pissed-off Auror still hot on his heels.

Oh, did the underpaid idiot want a cookie or something...?

Then, feeling the hot on his neck, he swung back to dodge as a stunning spell whizzed past him and nearly hit Avonn. Avonn crashed through some boxes, swung his body back to yell. "Avada Kedarva!" Lucius swung to the side dodging it as it hit the Auror that been chasing them right in the chest.

The Auror instantly slumped like a marionette whose strings had been slashed, bashing head-first to the ground dead.

"Avada Kedarvra," Lucius hissed, stumbling the broken, cobbled pathway, as the green light missed him and hit just by an ugly hag's feet, who screeched and danced on the spot, hollering like she was praying to a pagan ritual. "Avada Kedarvra," Lucius said again, steadying his wand, undeterred...

...Just as Avonn swung around at the end of the alleyway and shouted with a maniac's smirk: "Bombastic Maxima!"

Everything exploded around them in an instant.

Time slowed as Lucius ran and ran, passing Avonn's fallen body. The dust burned his eyes and the narrow street began to collapse like dominoes.

Glass shattered from the walls like popping bottle caps.

There were screams and terrified shouts as the narrow, poorly-built walls of the street began to crumble down and the path exploded upwards.

Lucius lost his footing with a yelp as a piece of stone smashed into his head...

Viscaria.

Draco.

Narcissa.

...Orion.

Then, there was only darkness...

* * *

Viscaria was sitting in the chair.

She couldn't move.

Zabini seemed quite smug, her smirking lips a chapped rouge. Her dragon-scale, emerald dress fitted around her like a snake; a black-feathered choker around her slim neck and white, thickly and furry scarf with the head of a stuffed rabbit at the end rest on her shoulder. Her black hair was a perfect afro, painstakingly kept. It all seemed to suit her beauty perfectly.

Viscaria felt jealousy, even now.

"What do you want with me?" Viscaria broke the unbearable silence.

Zabini raised her hand, taking her time to sip a murky-looking drink, making Viscaria hate her even more. "...Well, look at you..." she said finally, her voice like pleasant oil. "...Little girl-Rambo..." She laughed, making Viscaria grit her teeth. What in Merlin was a 'Rambo'? "Nice trick with the hairpin... most little girls don't think of that," she added approvingly.

_Most little girls don't think of killing..._

"It's... It's my specialty," she said, keeping her voice even.

The witch wagged her finger. "A little serpent beneath the flower," she mocked. "I like that. I didn't know Lucius and Narcissa's daughter had it in here... Bastion said you stabbed him like a little demon..." It was the way she said, like a chill on her back.

"When my father-" Viscaria sneered.

The witch smiled. "Your father is working for me now."

Viscaria narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe you."

"Oh, I'm serious. He's taking his leisureful time as well." She leaned forward in her chair, then she tapped Viscaria's nose. "Humph..." Viscaria glared. "I expected he'd be done hours ago. It's laid out pretty obvious, but your father's not as smart as he thinks he is." The glare intensified. "Still, he really loves you very much... considering he's willing to take out my dirty laundry..."

Viscaria blinked. "You have him taking out your laundry?"

Zabini blinked, before letting loose a laugh. "Term of expression, honey... Still, there's a thought... Hmm. Lucius Malfoy taking out my laundry? Should have added that to the terms and conditions, shouldn't I...?" she said wickedly.

Pushing her anger and fear down, Viscaria spoke. "What are you-?"

Her captor gave her a smile that didn't exactly comfort. "No need to be afraid, I don't hurt children myself." Viscaria just raised an eyebrow. "...Drugging them on the other hand..." she left the words hanging in the air, the smirk a permanent fixture of her face it appeared.

Viscaria paled, feeling herself swallow dryly. "...So what now?" Her voiced wavered, making her pause. "Back to 'bliss' for me?" she spat, gritting her teeth, her hands tightened on the chair's armrest.

The dark-skinned witch leaned forward in her chair. "Now, that reminds me. How exactly did you manage to break through the little paradise spell I kindly placed on you to... relieve your suffering? Care to share...?"

"Paradise?" Viscaria snorted. "It was a boring nightmare!"

Looking nearly intrigued, Zabini folded her arms. "Now, that's almost rare. It takes a certain kind of person to make a paradise out of hell and hell out of paradise. Typically, one, of course, who lacks imagination... just little?" she said, arching an eyebrow.

Viscaria glared.

Did this witch ever make sense?

And, she did not lack imagination! Idiots.

"Of course, Mrs Zabini. I like to live in the real world," she said, giving her a haughty look.

Her beauty to make her look even more arrogant. "How quaint... Tell you what, Viscaria, I won't put you under another charm." Viscaria narrowed her eyes. "It's clearly ineffectual and more permanent methods might be less than kind..." Viscaria restrained a shudder. "...Instead, I'm going to have to find a way to keep you 'safe' and entertained."

Viscaria looked at her in disbelief. "...Really?" she snorted, rolling her eyes.

Zabini shrugged. "Really. I can't have a girl like you bored. You'd torch the place."

Despite herself, Viscaria smirked. Now, she'd quite like to do that.

* * *

It was some time later, Viscaria found herself walking around some windy corridor.

"What's that?" she said, her ears pricking at a strange sounds.

It was coming behind a metal door to the side.

Zabini paused. "Do you really want to know?"

Viscaria nodded, her lips set in a firm line. "Yes."

The dark-skinned witch smirked. "That is the sound of recompense..." She pushed the door and it just seemed to cave away. The room was a stone box and curled up in the corner was frozen man, ice caking his skin and hair like frost, and levitating bat of all being beating him.

_Thunk._

_Thunk._

Viscaria stared. "Why?" It was all she could say.

"He's a traitor. Believe me, don't waste the pity," the witch snorted.

_Thunk._

"Maybe he betrayed for a reason? I would," Viscaria said absently, watching the bat fly up only to fall, bouncing off frozen flesh with a... _Thunk_. "Can he feel that?" she asked slowly, unable to keep her eyes away.

"Every little breath, every slightest shift, every smallest touch." Viscaria felt herself shudder at the words, trying to squash her fear. "But, he cannot scream." There was such satisfaction in Zabini's eyes, the empowerment and callousness.

_Thunk._

"Oh..." Viscaria said, feeling a little dumbstruck.

Zabini's lip curled. "You're smiling?"

_Thunk._

Viscaria hadn't even notice she was smiling, sliding it off her face quickly. "Just imagining when my father makes you take your own medicine," she said in disgust, gesturing to the on-going scene.

_Thun-_

"Precious." Zabini smiled, closing the door and grabbing Viscaria's arm, making her flinch. "The girl that pretends she's all above it..." She began to guide or drag her up the stairs. "... Until she isn't. I learnt that the hard way..." she said darkly.

"Really? Maybe it's because you're just stupid?" Viscaria taunted, pushing her luck.

Zabini smiled ruefully, but ignored her remark. "Blood, sweat and tears. It's a pain you like in the end." The beautiful witch opened the door to shining room, and Viscaria shield her eyes, nearly blinded. "It's the prettiest things come from the ugliest places.

The place was packed with colourful people in colourful clothes, be they robes or other types. They danced on the dance floor to very strange music, they sipped their rainbow of drinks, they laughed as those drinks sloshed, they happily patted their friends on the back and they were all content. It was like they'd been crushed together, to the pointing they were squeezed to popping point, yet it was worth it.

The many shouts and the many whispers.

"...Really? Sounds like a proper...!"

"...Another round, for my..."

"...Oh, Merlin! Yes...!"

"...Well, I heard from Alessa..."

"...Oh gosh, really...?"

"...Oh, fuck you! Ahhh...!

"...Hey, doll-face...!"

It was a circus. It grated on Viscaria's ears.

"How do you know I won't run...?" Viscaria asked hesitantly, looking around at the grandeur surrounding her. "...Or scream for help?"

"I'd be disappointed if you did. You'd just embarrass yourself." Zabini looked positively bored at the thought. "There are capable wizards and witches at every door. The hairpin only works a couple of times before it gets predictable...And don't give my guests ear-ache, it reflects badly on the business," she said warningly.

Viscaria narrowed her eyes. "But, if someone sees a little girl-"

The witch leaned down, looking her in the eye. "No. It's a nice thought... but no." She paused, before pinching Viscaria's cheek, making her twitch and swat her hand away. "You think you live in the real world, right? In the real world, nobody cares and everyone is selfish. Especially in a place like this..." she said softly, more softly than Viscaria had thought possible.

Viscaria felt her heart sink. "I don't understand..."

Surely, someone in this sea of people would care? At least someone?

Zabini gave her a long look. "Some people in this very room you're standing in would see a little sweet thing like you in the street, in the dark although not always, and they'd gobble you up. And, right now, they are drinking my alcohol and dancing on that really nice dance-floor of mine that's been recently renovated," she said dryly.

"And you can live with that?" Viscaria said, staring at the witch.

"People can live with a lot of things; the rewards provide closure," Zabini said, pressing a well-manicured nail to her smirking, rouge lips.

Viscaria frowned. She knew the world was a cold place, but she'd have thought it wasn't that cold. "...Won't anyone recognise me, anyway? I'm a Malfoy, everyone knows the Malfoys?" she said slowly, waiting for her hope to die. "...My family is plastered all over the newspapers all the time. So...?"

"You don't look much like a Malfoy? With black hair and those pretty brown eyes...?" Zabini said, gesturing to the stylistic, interlocked, golden-framed rectangular mirrors that covered a nearby wall adjacent to the ant-hill that was the bar. "Don't look like any Malfoy I've met, at least," she teased.

Viscaria frowned.

The girl reflected in those mirrors was quite different. Looked more like a Black at most than an actual Malfoy. It was almost as if she was looking at a new, aristocratic friend her mother was pushing on her or even... she almost giggled at the idea, a female Orion in a pretty dress. She turned to Zabini in surprised look, just catching her slipping her wand back in the sleeve of her dress.

"...When did you do that?" she said, eyeing her and the sleeve cautiously.

"In a flick." The arrogant smirk on Zabini's face seemed to only enhance her beauty; it made Viscaria wonder if that beautiful face was even hers face to begin with. "I'm afraid I modeled it a bit off Bellatrix as a little. Couldn't resist."

Viscaria paused, blinking. "...Aunt Bellatrix?"

"Oh, yes. You see, I was a friend of hers as a child... for a time," Zabini replied, smirking. She shrugged her shoulders. "...You remind me of her, a little bit."

Viscaria gave her a dubious look. "You and her were friends?"

Zabini smiled mysterious, gesturing for her to follow as she began to make her way to through the room. "Come along. Let's get our own private, high-class booth, already? Do you think all this...?" She gestured to herself in a swooping motion, hardly modest. "...can just stand around forever at the doorway like a wallflower?" The crowd seemed to almost part for her.

Scowling, Viscaria was nearly knocked over by three leering children running past... No, there faces were too ruddy, worn and lined. They were Dwarves. She was barely able to swallow her disgust at the decrepit things.

Giving their backs one last sneer, she continued to follow Zabini.

They soon found themselves sitting at a booth; the cushioning, red velvet seating curled around the black mahogany table like the outline of a heart ripped fresh. There was a cylinder, glass vase on the table with two obese roses coiled around each other like lovers. The lighting was a light, sensual lilac that seemed romantic to these people, judging how three people were kissing each other very hard two booths down.

They were also closer to the music now, it was very different...

She didn't even recognise all the instruments.

At the centre of the stage was a very pale man with black, slick hair and perfect blue eyes singing. "Welcome to your life, baby. There's no turning back, oh baby!" He was in black tunic and swishing cape. He was handsome. "...Hold out your neck, I'll do it too! We're together, mother nature's a fool...!" Resting her head on her hand, Viscaria listened to the smooth and deep voice wistfully.

Zabini's unpleasant voice broke through. "Lorcan d'Eath."

Viscaria scowled, sitting back and trying to stop herself from getting distracted again. "Strange surname."

"I'll tell you why when you're older," the woman was still smirking.

Shrugging, Viscaria stabbed her chocolate cake, which had been previously untouched, with a fork. "You and my Aunt were friends...? You said you were friends?" Viscaria's tone became more accusing and eyes harder, the effect ruined by her shoving a chunk of her desert in her mouth.

Looking at her dryly, Zabini just leisurely drank her drink.

Before Viscaria could speak again, a gruff voice did. "Red." It was a burly, bald wizard in silver and black robes; most strikingly he was wearing white face-paint. "Mazlyn's got a few kids on Ruben Avenue that need some babysitting since she's working a..." His eyes flickered to Viscaria for a moment. "...A late shift."

Zabini frowned. "Help? How much?"

"I was wondering if I could have a few hours. Probably five at most out... since Mazlyn's a good friend. There's only three of them, although Gilly might give some trouble." He grinned, the white on his face creasing, and honestly Viscaria noticed he seemed more a friend than an employee - was Zabini like this with all her staff? "I hear she's quite the rascal. I'll probably have to take 'em out for some ice-cream, sweeten them to me."

Viscaria eye twitched throughout the dull as dishwater conversation.

She tapped her chin twice. "Fortescue's is a best bet as any. I love their strawberry." Viscaria was just mortified she had something in common with her. "Okay, I can spare you if Mazlyn's really that desperate. But, just this once... or maybe not 'just'. Have fun with the brats." The dark-skinned witch chuckled, giving a warm smile.

"Thanks, Ma'am," the wizard said, swiftly turning around and leaving.

"Ugh!" Viscaria huffed, folding her arms and slumping back. "Why mention that your friends with my aunt if you're not going to explain?" she snapped, wishing she could strangle the insufferable woman.

"Because, it's funny how you get so worked up about this. Not very Slytherin." Viscaria frowned. "...If you give a person an inch, they will take a yard. So, what don't you do, little girl?" she said, oozing arrogance.

Viscaria looked down, trying to not flush. "...Give them an inch." She silently cursed the cow.

Zabini gave her a facile smile. "Good. Once you're in control of yourself, other people are child's play." She suddenly raised her glass. "More, now." It was instantly refilled as soon as the words left her mouth. "...Invisible House-Elves. Nothing ugly can be seen in this palace. Keeps the fun alive and unspoiled, you could say," she explained at Viscaria's quirked eyebrow, before drinking.

She had to admit it was smart.

Who wanted to see those ugly things trailing about even if it was necessary?

"What about Aunt Bellatrix?" Viscaria said more forcibly. She really wanted to know what her enigmatic Aunt was like, even if it was a sliver; everyone else never told her. "What was she like...?" she continued.

Zabini's finger traced the edge of her glass. "How to describe Bellatrix Lestrange? She was beautiful and cold, even at Hogwarts. Let's say she left a trail of broken hearts... and not just the metaphorical kind," she said, her face fighting between a grimace and a smile, before settling on the latter although it was melancholy.

Viscaria scowled. "Hmm..." Was all she gave, before gulping down her strawberry milkshake.

There was a wistful look in her eyes. "It was easy for her to become a Death Eater. It was in her nature; I wasn't surprised by it. The... consequences of her obsessions..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "Eventually, I... had enough." She paused, before her face twisted in a rueful grin. "I basically told her: 'You're a crazy bitch and not in the fun way, bye'." She waved mockingly, before immediately grimacing.

Viscaria leaned forward, looking around suspiciously. "You didn't believe in the Dark Lord...?" It was a strange realisation. She couldn't believe it.

Zabini gave her a long look, before letting loose a sigh. "I never bought into his cause. How could I? Every time he threw a tantrum, the nearest person in his vicinity nearly got brain damage," she said coolly.

"...He tortured his servants?" Viscaria asked in disbelief. She could hardly imagine her proud father bowing down and taking that, unless he'd been exempt because of his position and lineage.

"Yes, he did. Never could respect a person who threw a tantrum like he did..."

"You met him?"

"Yes. I wasn't a Death Eater, but I... smuggled a few of his and his ilk's choice items about," Zabini said, rolling her eyes as she nursed her drink. "I was damn good at my job too. Lucky enough not to not get on his bad side. I can't say the same for your father and aunt..."

Viscaria bit her lip. "Were they...?"

"Not often, like others. But they had their slip-ups. One time the Dark Lord and me were having a meeting... and your father was just withering on the floor in agony under the Cruciatus Curse throughout it all... as if he was just part of the scenery..."

Staring, Viscaria couldn't believe what she was hearing. "And, he just stood for that...?" She felt revulsion clogging up her stomach, revulsion at the lies that were spewing from Zabini's mouth.

It was obviously a lie. Her father would never...

Zabini kept looking at her dryly.

Oh, by Merlin, Viscaria knew it was all a sick lie...

"Every one of his did. They followed him out of fear and the hope he'd fulfill their desires." The witch rolled her eyes to the ceiling almost as if she was praying to the heavens. "Of course, Bellatrix had to be different as always... Bellatrix loved him."

Viscaria couldn't help but gasp, trying to stifle it with her hand. "...Even if he tortured her?" The thought leapt from her lips before she could even process it.

Zabin snorted."Who else but Bellatrix... I'm pretty sure the torture turned her on..."

Feeling utter disgust and disbelief, Viscaria didn't even want to think about how that worked. It was crazy... to love someone for giving pain when you should be getting revenge. It didn't make sense, it was crazy.

The sound around them abruptly cut out. Viscaria tensed.

"...Mrs Zabini?" There was an elderly wizard in black robes standing in front of their table. It was Arcturus Black.

Zabini's face lit up with a wide smile as she looked up at him. "Lord Black. A pleasure to see you, again," she replied, half-standing up to shake his hand. "What brings you here...?"

Viscaria couldn't help but sneer.

Black glanced at her, curiously, before turning back to Zabini. "There's been a change of plans. Narcissa and Lucius will have their daughter back, and I will have the Black heir. I trust this is possible, Zabini?" The wizard looked strangely happy and irritated at the same time.

Viscaria was left stunned. _What did he just say...?_

Zabini didn't miss a beat, raising her glass to him. "Quite possible. Orion is sleeping safe and sound downstairs - Sasha!" A pretty woman with bright green eyes, black hair and pale skin walked up in black stilettos and a tight, semi-transparent floral dress with her hands clasped behind her back like a servant.

"Yes, mistress?"

"Have them wake up Orion Black and bring him up to this good gentlemen."

He shook his head. "It's better if I go down. I don't want to make scene with so many eyes and ears around," he said, glancing around at the crowds of people still chatting, drinking, dancing and laughing. "...Is Viscaria down there, too?"

At her name, Viscaria was broken from her stupor.

Her lips formed in a thin line, trying to remain impassive. Maybe she could smash a glass on his head when he turned his back? He better hurry, because she was going to explode very soon.

"No. She's right here." Zabini's wand appeared from nowhere, before Viscaria's could even flinch she'd flicked it and slipped it back in her sleeve. "I decided I'd give the girl some time to stretch her legs."

Viscaria caught a glimpse of blonde in the mirror.

_No more disguises..._

His eyes narrowed disapprovingly. "And, what if she'd run away?"

"She wouldn't get far," the dark-skinned witch said dryly.

Black paused. "I'll take your word for it." He waved his hand dismissively. "Anyway, about Orion-" he began.

Viscaria knocked over her strawberry milkshake, standing up and smashing her hands against the table. "Why are you taking, Orion!?" She seethed through gritted teeth, turning her gaze up to him a deathly glare. "Why is he going with you?!"

He gave her a cheery look. "Your mother and me came to an agreement, Viscaria. You're going back to your family. Orion Black is coming with me, as the Black heir."

"Oh, really? I think Orion would rather slit his throat than go with an old fart like!" She laughed harshly. "Look at your family. My mother's the only sane one out of all of you; all the others either belong in Saint Mungo's or Azkaban."

"I'd watch your tongue, girl-who-may-return-to-Saint-Mungo's."

Viscaria felt a shiver at his look, but all her fear disappeared as a idea came to her. "Really, I definitely wouldn't want to be a part of your family, Lord Black. It was your... stupidity that made the Blacks such pathetic, weak losers, wasn't it...?" she said, making her voice ooze with confidence.

"Where I come from, children are silent and well-mannered," Black said, cold yet darkly amused.

Viscaria mocked, letting out a grating, girlish giggle. "Where I come from, children aren't insane by five years. If you cared about Orion, you should leave him with us, at least he'd live a long life..." She smiled as she remembered something - something that made her feel smart. "...If he stayed with us, he'd live longer than Regulus. Your family is full of idiots like that, pathetic idiots who die early because they are weak!"

The impervious amusement slid from Lord Black's face. "Quiet, girl. I am patient, but no so for your childish games," he said

Zabini was looking at her warningly. _Whatever_.

Swallowing it all down, Viscaria smiled. "The stars are going out, _my Lord_. They deserved to die because they weren't worth anything at all," she sneered, feeling very brazen. "They're worth less than dirt, everyone knows that. Less than mudbloods, eve-" She gasped.

There was a bony hand an inch from hitting her face.

It just hung there.

Black gave her a tight smile. "Sly thing. You almost had me. But did you really think if I hit you your family will break a deal with me? Even if I left you black and blue, they wouldn't raise a finger because they'd rather have you back than dead." His slight smile sent shivers down her back, as did the honesty in his confident voice. "Such a good friend. Behave, and you'll get to visit him sometimes." He gave her a mock-appraising look.

Viscaria wanted to scream the whole place down. She wanted to kill him, effortlessly stare him dead in the eye with a stone face and kill him. She could imagine it... _the colour draining his face, the slackening... _if only she could smile at that, but it just reminded her of one thing...

...She was weak.

It was obvious she was as weak. She was as weak as she was all those years ago.

She did the only thing she could think of. Like an quickly fixed clock, a perfect smile snapped on her face. "Lord Black. I apologise for my behaviour. I've just been... very upset these past few days with the traumatising kidnapping. Please... do forgive me for my insolence."

He looked her over. "You learn your lessons quick. That's good." He turned to the 'Sasha' girl, as Viscaria's face remained fixed like statue. "Well... Sasha, isn't it?" he addressed the witch awkwardly standing there.

Sasha nodded curtly. "Y-yes, sir?"

"Take me to Orion Black..." He flicked his ebony wand and the sound of their surrounding returned full-force, almost bombarding all their ear-drums.

Sasha nodded, dutifully turning around and walking towards the back of the room. Giving Zabini and Viscaria one last undecipherable glance, Black followed with a swift, determined stride that seemed beyond somebody so old.

Aside from everywhere else in the room, there was silence at the booth.

Then, Zabini had to say something. "Wasn't expecting that."

Viscaria seethed.

* * *

It had been a while since Arcturus had left.

Narcissa knew he'd keep his word.

Yes, Arcturus was prideful and ruthless, but at the same time he wasn't entirely so blinded that he was stupid. The value of the Malfoys alliance and Black heir would be very beneficial for a time, for damage-control and power gain for his family.

Yes, his family.

Her family ended with her late mother and Bellatrix.

She was sitting across from Melania, raising the saucer and then the rose-painted teacup to her lips. The hot steaming, favourable, soothing liquid slid down her throat, renewing the energy had been draining away from lack of sleep and worry, sip by sip.

Yes, she'd remember this.

She'd remember it every day of her life.

The Black Matriarch smiled, her face wrinkling under the sweetness. "Well, I'm glad that we could sort this out. I hope you can forgive us..." The insipid voice of hers, it may make people think Melania wasn't very bright; it was likely most people got that impression... and perhaps they were right.

Perhaps, perhaps not; Narcissa couldn't really tell.

Her response was cordial. "I'm glad as well, Melania... I'm still rather upset this all happened, but I realise that you must... move on." She smiled cheerily. "So, I'm not mad. Hurt, perhaps, that it would go so far..." _And, just between us girls, I'm currently fantasizing about hanging you off the roof and listening to your screams _\- oh wait, she mustn't say that.

"Oh, I understand. It's been difficult for all of us," the auburn-haired witch said.

Narcissa couldn't stand this silly twit. "Correct," she lied, lifting the cup to her mouth, the steam of it calming her. "...You must... build a better future. It is better than wading through a dark past..." she said awkwardly.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Melania said sympathetically.

_Oh please._

Her finger tracing the rim of her teacup, Narcissa smiled lightly. "Thank you... I'm truly sorry about what happened to you, Melania. I can tell you I had no part in it, I didn't even realise until she showed me."

"I could hear that much," Melania laughed, shaking her head.

"Veloria is, to put it kindly, a bit of a firecracker." To put it lightly. She'd had to adjust the wards to make sure that Veloria didn't come knocking; she could hear her slamming against for the next thirty minutes after. "Of course, she's a bit careless with her thinking, but she gets herself into a frenzy so often," she said.

Melania tipped her cup, smiling as she raised it to lips. "I don't know how you deal with it. She's perfectly horrid," she replied, before pursing her lips and looking down. "...We'll look after him. Orion..."

"I'm sure you'll do your best," Narcissa replied, as if their best was ever enough.

"We will. I promise," the other witch said without missing a beat.

"...Thank you, Melania," she replied, counting the minutes on the clock when Arcturus would damn well get back on the grandfather clock. "I know you will try your very best to make sure Orion can be the best Black heir he can be," she said these words, wishing she could throw up.

The Black Matriarch nodded. "Yes, I think that'd be quite nice. Maybe, your daughter and son could visit sometime? I bet those children are very close to Orion's heart, with the years he's spent here."

"That would be nice..." Narcissa said noncommittally.

It was at that moment Arcturus and Viscaria walked through the door...

Narcissa felt herself practically bolted from her chair, wrapping her shaking arms around her daughter. "Oh, Viscaria! You're safe!" she cried, squeezing her tight. "Are you alright...?" Her emotions swelling, tears of relief and joy dripping down her face.

It took a while to noticed that Viscaria wasn't even looking at her.

The little girl's eyes were trained on Melania Black. Her face stone.

Her voice was slow, sweet and cold. ""Mummy... Another friend?"

* * *

**A.N: Well, here's another chapter. Narcissa and Lucius are doing their own thing; the consequence of poor communication, I suppose :). **


	22. Chapter 21: Black Sky

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 21: Black Sky**

* * *

**6th August, 1987**

* * *

Blackness kept trying to drag him down.

It was as if he was drowning in an ocean, lighter than water and yet even more heavier at the same time. He could just the surface of it, taunting him, but he couldn't quite reach it and he was sinking.

He heard nothing, just the ringing.

_The pain..._

He could feeling, trying to get him. It had to work, the numbness of his body made sure of that, but he feeling it creeping and soon enough the only that would stop his screaming would be his integrity and the sea forming in throat. He knew how it worked.

_The pain..._

Sounds would bleed in and out - the strangest cracklings and scraping... it sounded like something, something... He couldn't think of it, all he could feel was the uncomfortable press, the heat and the coldness on his... on his forehead.

_The pain..._

Aside from the wetness, there was dryness in his lungs. It him want to heave out the burning dry but never did he.

There was a total disconnect; everything was so far away.

It was too difficult...

Too difficult to understand...

He felt some hard, sharp and warm collided with his face, and he wanted to yell this person! How dare they, the idiots! Didn't they know who he was...? But, he could quite get the energy for it since he had obviously overworked himself - and, he wouldn't be surprised if he woke up passed out at some local pub with some kind of Mead dripping everywhere like last time from all the stress of...

_Ugh._

_Avonn..._

_Viscaria..._

_Orion..._

His head hurt so much like someone had stomped on it then given it to an Elephant stampede for further, sick entertainment.

He gritted his teeth, his eyes pushing up for a moment to find a blurry, smoke-filled blue sky before they stubbornly closed, again. He felt so heavy.

Nonetheless, his quaking arms managed to heave him up a little. Arms with sleeves that were torn and rimmed with a little bit of blood here and there. In fact, quite a bit of his arm was littered with cuts and scratches and bruises it was a wonder he didn't shatter when he bashed back down on the ground, his tired, battered limb unable to support him.

It hurt everywhere.

He saw a pair of shoes run past him and he tried to croak for assistance, swallowing the coppery taste in his mouth, but they were already gone.

Red spots dripped onto his left eye; at the sting, he clenched it shut.

Also, just to make things even better than they already were, a few of his fingers on his left hand seemed broken, bent at wonky angles.

After just lying there for Merlin knew how long, he gained enough clarity to realise after strange numbness and cold sweat knocked off, he was sure the searing pain of all this would slam into him much worse than an Elephant stampede and an army of Aurors stamping on his head.

Damn it.

He gritted his teeth, feeling a coppery taste slosh over his taste buds.

Damn it all.

He was not dying in this shit alley, of Knockturn Alley of all places. No, he would not die surrounded by shit, piss, smoke, sewage, rubble - and, he almost felt his stomach clench at the severed stump of an arm nearby - or body parts and blood splatter likely a century before his time and in such a stupid, unfitting manner like this.

His children were counting on him... His wife... He blinked, feeling his gaze blur even more. His felt a wetness slide down from his eyes, from the top of his cheek to the bottom of his chin where it dripped off. For everything that was his dignity, he hoped it was just blood.

He'd failed.

In the blurring world around, a white shape - no, a face! - with a dab of red - no, those were lips! - and surrounded by short, black hair had slid into his vision against the white sky.

It was a blood red mouth. It was speaking silently.

He croaked, trying to keep his eyes open.

_Trying to focus..._

"He...lp..he..." his dry throat tried to push - his tongue tried to say, even if his ears couldn't hear it - but, then he felt a weight on his chest and broke of retching and heaving that shook his body.

It made him feel like he'd crumple into the waiting arms of death any second. It scared him furiously, furiously trying to keep his eyes open, furiously trying to fight the resignation infecting his body.

The mouth frowned.

_"Only if everything costs..."_

There was nothing but darkness after that...

* * *

For a moment, Viscaria had forgotten.

It was the moment she was happy as her mother's quaking arms wrapped around her. The comforting whispers and rushed words she couldn't understand. She almost fell into the trap, almost raised her arms and embraced her mother back full-forced. Her arms twitched, but then she remember at the glimpse of Melania Black's face peering at them from the corner.

"Mummy..." Her voice took control, sliding out like sweet cherry ice-cream. "Another friend...?"

She almost laughed because it was all a joke. The Blacks had kidnapped them, but her mother offered them steaming cups of tea, smiles and - _oh yes_ \- Orion Black like a steam-crossed bun.

Her mother's arms stiffened for a moment. She moved back a little, looking at her with those guilty, imploring blue of blue eyes.

_Please forgive me..._

That was what those eyes said, kept saying. Her mother told the best jokes.

Sending her mother reeling back, Viscaria laughed in her face... all because it was too late. They both knew it on some level, considering how obvious it was.

"Viscaria... please," her mother pleaded.

"You do deal with this brat. I'm going back for Orion," Lord Black said, and Viscaria was pleased to see he had suffered her presence well enough. "Are you coming, Melania?" he said briskly.

His wife slowly stood up, her insufferable eyes never leaving them. There was guilt in the auburn witches eyes eyes. She took a few steps before pausing, looking conflicted. "I think I'll catch up with you later, dear," she said, looking like she was going to regret this.

Lord Black gave her an exasperated look. "Fine... take care..." He left swiftly, there was almost a spring in his step.

"Viscaria?" her mother said tentatively, turning back to her.

Viscaria hoped that her mother could see it; the betrayal, the disgust. "You're giving up Orion. You're letting them win," she said the facts, before narrowing her eyes. "Wby?" It was amazing how one word could say so much. "Why did you abandon him...?"

_...Why did you, Viscaria?_

She felt her stomach twist. Did her feelings make her a hypocrite? She'd _left_ him all because of herself. She given little thought and just left him lying defenseless there on that bed and she'd abandoned him many times before that in different way.

But, that was her, wasn't it? She was terrible and needed to suffer like she did, she need to go through all that pain, and with that thought came the furious anger that only rose to have nowhere to go...

_Except..._

Her parents were supposed to be different.

Black had been edging her way over, looking on the cusp of interrupting. "...What's this about winning?There shouldn't be sides. We're all family and it's time we accepted that..." she trailed off at the looks she was getting.

Viscaria shoved past her mother and stomping up to the even more stupid witch, her fists clenched. "Oh, do you normally kidnap 'family' and blackmail them?" Her voice was so much like honey anyone would choke on it. "Lady Black? Did you know I'm not an idiot, that I know what the 'game' really is? The only idiot is one who asks stupid questions filled with obvious lies and expects us to swallow them," she spat.

The auburn-haired witch just stared.

"Who taught you about blackmail?" her mother's voice came, dusting off her dress and looking at her with a confused look. "Who's been filling your head with that, Viscaria?" she said more firmly, giving her daughter a searching look.

"It was part of Miss Galster's curriculum. _Father knew_..." she told her oblivious, backstabbing mother. "...Often I'm surprised I actually came from you." The hurt on the witch' made her grin a little, before it made her scowl. "But, that's not the point!" She knew they were trying to side-track her and she would not have it! "What exactly are you going to do to Orion? I'm concerned, it looks like I'm the only one."

Her mother looked down in shame.

The Black Matriarch raised an eyebrow. "Raise him?"

Viscaria looked at her cheerily. "Oh, I knew you were going to say that, ma'am. You're going to make him into a psycho who enjoys tortured like Aunt Bellatrix, aren't you?" Her mother's eyes were alight with surprise and then _pain_; Black wasn't fairing too much better. "You're going to destroy him and be dumb enough to be surprised when you do, aren't you?" she sneered

"V-Viscaria..." her mother tried to reprimand.

"Admit it!" Viscaria screeched, only seconds away from flinging herself at the damn... the damn bitch!

"Viscaria...!"

Hissing through teeth, Viscaria turned, noticing her mother's hesitance. _The weakness._

Her mother was a mess, not the impermeable witch she liked to present herself as. Perhaps, it was the gratefulness of seeing daughter well after all this time made it impossible for her mother to bring up the resolve and the anger to be forceful? Perhaps, it was her coward act, her submission and relief in believing there'd be no further retribution? Whatever it was, it was revolting...

It was funny too. _She should get kidnapped more often._

The Black Matriarch let out a loud sigh like the attention-grabbing fool she was, shaking her head at them like a long-suffering, wise witch. "Don't talk about Bellatrix like that," she said, but even all she could do was half-hearted. "Now, I just want to say that we will take care of Orion. I'm sorry, but he's a Black, not a Malfoy - he belongs with his own. Blacks belong with Blacks, dear."

"Well, are you on planning on taking mummy back too? I hope not..." Viscaria said lightly, unable to help herself. She knew that she should let her feelings rule her head - she just couldn't stand Melania's smug, birdy face enough to be too sweet. "I'd be lost without her guidance. She's had so many friends even I can't count them."

Black couldn't help herself. "Perhaps, you're bad at counting?"

"Do you want me to count to a hundred? A thousand?" Viscaria asked innocently, before she opened her mouth wide and took a deep breath. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, seventeen-" she began, making sure her voice was a grating as possible.

Black wasn't looking at her vague amusement and annoyance. "I think that won't be necessary."

Viscaria smiled. "So, you agree, then? How sociable my mummy is? Mummy makes friends like Witch Weekly publishes issues. She's so efficient." She sent her mother, who looked uncomfortable, a jealous look. "Makes me jealous since I find it hard to make friends..."

"Do you? Pretty, bright little girl like you?" Black gasped, surprised.

She tilted her head. "True, but I'm very emotional, ma'am. When people upset me a little, I'm inconsolable and act a little crazy... Orion's the same. Very emotional - that's why we get on so well."

"That's a lesson for the future, then," Black said. "The world isn't fair, is it?"

"Orion's the same. Very emotional - that's why we get on so well." Viscaria tilted her head. "We understand each other and now we're being ripped apart like this, after all these years? I-I'm so upset and angry, ma'am." She wiped a tear from her eyes. "Will he be happy?"

Black's eyes softened. "Yes, he will be."

"Well, I honestly didn't believe kidnappers make good parents until I met you," Viscaria said brightly, her eyes wide with fake sincerity. While, Lady Black and her mother frowned. "The way you sweep everything the under rug, I'm sure you won't see any problems raising Orion. It will just be rainbows and unicorns for you, won't it?"

"Young lady," her mother snapped, but the force was still lacking.

It was almost.

"You're really optimistic, ma'am. It's really sweet of you," Viscaria continued,chuckled, her smile becoming even more bright. "I wish you all the luck in the world..." Even that still wouldn't be enough, because she'd make them pay somehow, some time.

"Yes..." Black said slowly.

Viscaria paused, a thought striking her. "Where's Draco, by the way? Has he been kidnapped too?" she asked, glancing between between her mother and Lady Black with a questioning look.

"He's with the Berrow's," her mother said tersely.

"The Berrows? Really? Us Malfoy's are sure losing children fast," Viscaria whistled, balancing on her tip-toes. "Maybe, we should open a lost-and-found box...?"

Her mother's eye twitched. "He hasn't been kidnapped. They're just babysitting!"

Viscaria's raised an eyebrow. "Oh, babysitting? That's new..."

Her mother closed her eyes, letting out a light breath of exasperation. Lady Black just smiled like an insipid dimwit, letting out a light chuckle as if the situation was much more social and innocent than it actually was; Viscaria wanted to just grab the woman's face and thrust it into the lit fireplace.

She hated them all.

Nonetheless, her smiled stayed fixed. There was a comfortable silence.

Her mother looked like she had something to say, something she didn't want to bear. "Viscaria... you're going to be joining Draco at the Berrows for a bit..." her mother said, sounding very hesitant. "I understand that it seems ridiculous, but-" she began.

"You're already sick of me?"

Her mother blinked. "I just want you to be safe."

"Are you sure? You haven't been doing very well so far, have you?" she snorted, watching carefully for another sign of pain on the witch's face but she managed to keep composed." Considering how Zabini betrayed us for whatever reason?"

"They won't. They're different," her mother assured.

Viscaria narrowed her eyes. "How do you know?"

"We made sure."

It was cryptic, the truth with all the important bits cut out and even Viscaria knew that was all she was going to get so she moved on. "...Where is father?" she said coolly and finally, her suspicion growing.

Her mother gave that look, that look of softness, as if any harder she'd break her. "Your father is fine. He's making sure the deal between Lord Black and us is running smoothly," she said sincerely.

Viscaria felt like she'd been slapped.

It made sense, of course it did. It wasn't like her father would give away the Black heir without having a say, but to hear her mother say the words, that her father was just as much an accomplice as her mother was.

Was there nobody in this family she could trust?

* * *

**Narcissa.**

Narcissa didn't want to have to lie.

She couldn't bare sending Viscaria away to the Berrows but she didn't have a choice.

But, she didn't have a choice.

What had broken her heart the most was turning away from the face she'd thought she may never see, again. Yes, Viscaria had the right to feel angry with her for her failures, but she didn't understand...

Viscaria was too young to understand...

Perhaps that was a blessing, but the only other option was bloodshed. For the greater good of their families, there had to be sacrifices - and, she rather have a daughter who could never forgive her than a dead daughter, so she couldn't say she regretted sending Orion away to live with the Black family.

Besides, Narcissa had been a Black and she'd turned out fine, hadn't she?

But, that lie soured her mind by its touch.

Sometimes she wondered if she was just as damaged as her sisters but better at hiding it from others and herself. Despite how far she tried to push-up those pretty, gracious smiled, she just felt so cold - as if all the softness and kindness she had when she had first laid eyes on Viscaria's baby form had dried up a little.

Perhaps, that goodness had only been her imagination to begin.

Right now, she didn't care as much as she liked to believe. All she cared about was making sure Viscaria and Draco lived the best life she could give them, and if a few eggs needed to be broken and trodden on, then she didn't care - guilt may pull at her throat, trying to convince her she was a good person, but actions were the loudest words and her actions spoke plenty.

Well, enough of that.

She owed Lucius an explanation and she dread his reaction to the price they'd had to pay.

Not to give the impression that her husband care nothing for their daughter, because he cared very much, but like his mother he let the sweet scent of imaginary victory clog his nose, taint his head and blind him into believing he could win everything because he was a Malfoy and he was Lucius Malfoy at that.

Lucius refused to acknowledge sacrifice.

He'd refuse to acknowledge the cost she'd paid as if, if he had done it he would having triumphed and got the best deal. She could already imagine his flaring nostrils, his thin lips and his striking greys eyes as he reprimanded her for not doing what he wanted - as he knew best, oh didn't he?

She didn't care about that.

He could yell till they were in their graves because she had their daughter back.

Her heels clicked against the marble as she strode down the hall to his office. Barely even noticing the people rushing about in a frenzy, as her thoughts focused on one objective.

"...Why don't we have a coffee break? I know-"

"-Mr Applebee, no thanks - wait! Um, ma'am?"

Determined and swift in her movements, she passed the secretary's desk and man in a green suit with steaming cups of coffee who was leaving, opening Lucius' office door to find... there was nobody inside. It was completely empty save the furniture and equipment - she paused, a little put out at what she had been building towards.

She slid back and found herself at the secretary's - Jacoba Blishwick, wasn't it? - desk, who was discreetly eyeing her behind horn-rimmed glasses.

"Mrs Malfoy. Your husband isn't in at the moment," the secretary said the obvious, frowning. "I believe he's out on business."

Never really having had a good look at her before, Narcissa looked her over.

She was fairly pretty with her hazel eyes in a youthful way. Her coiffed, strawberry blonde pulled back in a short ponytail. The witch's clothes were nice but functional, wearing a grey, polo shirt, a dark green skirt and shoes with quaint, bronze ribbons which she rather liked.

Narcissa frowned. "When will he return?"

"There's no set time for when he will return, ma'am," Jacoba said, her tone very measured as she looked up at her through her glasses. "Do you want to leave me a message, ma'am?"

You know, Narcissa had initially expected Lucius would have had a more bombshell assistant to show off. But, now she understood; the look in the secretary's eyes seem to have a keen sharpness to them - and perhaps, there was some slyness there as well... yes, perhaps there was.

Lucius wouldn't choose someone who gave it all away easily, even to his own wife. This might be more difficult than she had thought.

"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" Narcissa pressed, giving the woman the most imploring look, leaning a little into the woman's personal space.

The secretary shook her head, politely smiling right back. "Unfortunately, no. Mr Malfoy is always on the go. Sorry," she said, her eyes flickering with sympathy, before she repeated her previous sentence. "If could take down a message, ma'am, if you want. I'm sure he'll return soon enough."

"Do you mind if I wait a little, just to see?" Mrs Malfoy said, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course, not. You can stay as long as you like," Jacoba replied, giving her a reassuring smile as she went back to pressing the keys on her typewriter with a chink sound here and a chink there as the letters were pressed into the paper, adjusting the platen knob at times.

Sitting on the waiting chair in the reception, watching the secretary at work, Mrs Malfoy frowned thoughtfully. Perhaps, this woman didn't know something?

Narcissa frowned, hoping that that wasn't the case because she really wanted it to be simple. "When did you last see my husband?" she asked, giving her a searching look.

The secretary paused, her fingernails an inch from the keys. "Well, he came in a few hours ago, did I forget to mention, ma'am?" she said, shaking her head. "Well, he came here looking for some paperwork. Likely, for his important legislation with Umbridge-"

"Don't lie, please. What did he say?" Narcissa asked.

"Well, he didn't say much, ma'am," Jacoba said, a flash of irritation creasing her brow for less than a moment. "And, I'm not lying. He didn't say what he was doing at all; I just inferred that he was looking to bolster the legislation considering some of the steady opposition that might, possibly destabilize the case's content."

She didn't need her time wasted by a girl who thought she could play games.

"Look here, Ms Blishwick," Narcissa snapped, her tone hardening and eyes coolling. "I don't have time for this rubbish. Just tell me everything you know about the whereabouts of my husband or else you'll find yourself in a very uncomfortable position. This could be a matter of life and death, and I swear if you make it the latter you will find your life ruined and that would be unfortunate, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, ma'am, why didn't you say it was so urgent?" Jacoba said, standing up with a bright smile and dusting off her skirt. "And, here I was weighing my duties. Of course, ma'am, if it's so urgent, ask away." She arched an eyebrow. "Any questions?"

Narcissa felt a smirk curl on her lips, almost amused and slightly irritated. "When did you last see my husband and what state was he in, Ms Blishwick?"

"Your husband came in a five hours ago. He was wearing a disguise, initially," Jacoba replied, idly tidying the papers on her desk. "He seemed to be searching for something or someone - the latter of which is likely since when I suggested he check the Floo-Records, he jumped at the chance with even a 'thank you' my way."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "Anything else?"

"Oh Merl," Jacoba sighed, adjusting her glasses. "Well, judging from the frenzy he was in, ma'am, it was close to his heart whatever he was looking for..." She sighed. "He even missed an appointment with Madam Umbridge and her secretary - Lavinia - has been pestering me for hours about it."

"...And, did he find it?" Narcissa said.

"Well, he isn't here, ma'am. So, Mr Malfoy must have found something." Jacoba shook her head, giving Narcissa a sympathetic look. "I have a feeling he was looking to the case of his abducted - your - abducted daughter and ward if I had to guess, thinking about it - probably the person behind it all."

Narcissa frowned. "Yes..."

Suddenly, Jacoba gulped as if a thought had occurred to her. "The thing is, ma'am..." she said slowly, unsure. "There was an explosion at the intersect between Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley less than an hour ago." She paused, regaining her breath as he words had begun to rush. "At first I dismissed it as another terrorist attack, but nobody has claimed responsibility and it'd make sense if Mr Malfoy-"

Narcissa practically ran from the room.

She had a bad feeling.

* * *

**Orion.**

If he was going to be honest, he was a little shocked.

One moment he was in the best day of his life and the next he was in the back-end of a nightclub. He woke up and had a glass shoved in his face filled with a murky, amber colour with foamy-looking froth on the top and now he was staring at the beautiful Mrs Zabini.

Mrs Zabini twirled a bouncy curl of her afro, her lips twisted in a red smirk. "Aren't you going to drink up?" Mrs Zabini said, sipping her own drink and leaning back in her chair, her silver, sequinned, glittering dress almost turning gold in the light. There was a black feathered choker around her neck. "You might need a boost after all this, kid... unless you want something little stronger, that is?"

Orion frowned. "Why am I here? Is this a ransom-thing?"

"Drink up your butterbeer and I might tell you," she said smoothly, staring him down with amused, dark eyes of which two elegant eyebrows arched above. "Come on. I hate waste, Orion - and, I don't humour people who do things I hate."

"...Okay," Orion said, dipping down and sipping the drink. The comforting, nice and smooth flavour that slid down his throat almost like a strange honey surprised him - the sweetness of it, how refreshing it was, made him smile without even realising as he took a large glug of it.

He licked his lips of the foam, the aftertaste just as sweet as the first. Oh yes, he was definitely going to get Mrs Malfoy to get him ones of these again even if he had to beg for...

Mrs Zabini smirked. "Taste good, Orion...?"

Then, he remembered where he was and who he was with.

"...It's nice... Almost as good as mint ice-cream," he said flatly - although, he continued to lick around his mouth to scout some excess flavour. "I've drunk your butterbeer... Mrs Zabini. Please tell me why I'm here...?" That when he trailed off, because he saw a glimmer of something he didn't like.

She had sympathy in her eyes.

It sent a chill down his spine. He imagined it took a lot took get 'sympathy' from this witch.

"Orion, you won't be going back to Malfoys." Orion froze not believing his ears as he opened his mouth. "You'll be going with Lord Black, your great-grandfather..."

"No..."

"...the Malfoys traded you for Viscaria's safe return."

"No. You're lying!" Orion said, his voice catching his throat along with anger.

"You noticed the bed was empty. Viscaria is back at the manor," Mrs Zabini said matter-of-factly. She glanced at the ticking clock, before looking back at his stunned face. "Lord Black's price was you and the Malfoys paid as they always do. Accept it, denying it will make this worse."

He blinked, glaring. "...No. No. Liar."

"Am I really...?" she said, arching an eyebrow. "Orion Black, ask yourself this question: if push came to shove and the Malfoys had to choose, would they save you or Viscaria Malfoy?" Orion opened his mouth, ready to snapped, but Zabini's cool eyes stilled him. "I said 'think', boy! If they could only choose one, who would they save?"

Her voice was like a blow to his stomach.

But, it made sense...

He didn't want to accept it, but it made sense. He was just a ward.

"...I expected that," he said quietly. "I know... I know Viscaria was more important and... if it came to it..." His eyes flashed. "You made it actually happen."

Mrs Zabini frowned. "Oh, did I?"

"You helped them. You pretended to be Mrs Malfoy friend and you help _them_, your son is friends with Draco!" he sneered, anger pooling in his stomach and having nowhere to really go. "Argh!" He whacked the glass of butterbear to the floor, the glass shattering and scattering across the floor.

She watched him seethe. "That wasn't very nice."

"Well, you're a cow," Orion snapped, remembering one of Kai's favourite insults.

There was a curt, sudden knock.

Mrs Zabini bent down, pinching his cheek very hard he almost yelped. "It's time little guy," she said coolly, releasing him and turning to the door.

He glared at her with stinging eyes, rubbing his cheek which had gone a little red.

Her gentle hand guided him forward, and he swallowed as he saw his great grandfather, Lord Black, waiting down the hall.

"You've changed clothes," Lord Black noted, looking amused at Mrs Zabini.

"Well, a girl has got to look her best," Mrs Zabini said, rolling her eyes. "Besides... Lord Black, I have a meeting with some distinguished friends that I can simply not keep waiting. Could we wrap this business up spic and span? Lazenbury is an absolute troll at the best of times, and you know it."

Lord Black nodded curtly. "Yes, and don't worry. The Blacks will follow through with their promises," he said, giving her a reassuring - if that kind of confidence could be called that - look. "...Of course, with Mulciber out of the way, according to reports..." A sly look came on his face. "Things will certainly be easier from there on."

"What happen there?" Mrs Zabini asked thoughtfully, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "I heard he was blown to bits, oh dear? Then nothing much besides the panic."

"Yes, apparently. Sixteen dead in the kerfuffle, including Avonn Mulciber," his great grandfather replied, giving her a look. "I know that boy's father, Victor Mulciber - we were schoolmates."

"You must be devastated..." she said, putting her hand to her chest.

"Not really, as boys I made him cry multiple times in fact," his great-grandfather said, somewhat fondly. "We used to call him Mulciber the Muff - that's until he fell in with... well... _him_ if you know what I mean...?"

Mrs Zabini nodded. "Seemed to be a hobby for most Slytherin boys and girls at the time, if I recall," she remarked, her golden fingernail tracing her rouge lip. "Like popping your cherry... I hear _he_ was quite handsome back then."

"Let's just say if the Dark Lord had turned out to have been born a Black, I wouldn't have been surprised," his great-grandfather remarked, glancing at Orion with mild distaste.

Orion frowned.

Hey! - Was that supposed to be a slam on him?

Mrs Zabini moved in closer, giving his great-grandfather a sly look. "So... would I be right to assume that this wasn't just a harmless accident?" She arched an eyebrow. "They say Avonn was running like there was no tomorrow - even jumped out a building to get away from somebody...?"

"You've heard right. From what was gleaned by some of my informants, a man with brown hair and a trenchcoat was chasing him just before the explosion," Lord Black said briskly. "By who, nobody knows - at least, so far. I imagine that meeting you've been called to will have all sorts of shade thrown around."

"Well, Mulciber was a top brass dog in the underground world. It's expected," she said. "I know the Lazenbys and Selwyns will be feeling the chill creeping on their naked behinds. Mulciber was the bridge that handled all their trading

"But, you won't be inconvenienced?" the old wizard said, arching a wispy eyebrow.

"Neither with Selwyn, Rosier, Lazenby and Montague. We weren't leaning on that bridge like it was the road to paradise," Mrs Zabini replied, smirking at him. "Don't worry, I've got a few gold crowns left," she added, wagging her finger at him. "...Besides..." She glanced at Orion. "Shouldn't you be taking yours home?"

Lord Black smirked. "I suppose so..." he said, turning to look at him with those penetrating eyes that froze him solid. "Come along, Orion."

What was he, a dog?

"Don't you go thinking it's a choice," Mrs Zabini's slick voice hissed in his ear like a cobra. Almost as if possessed, he stepped one foot and after another and found himself right next to Lord Malfoy, flinching as the man's bony, gloved hand gripping his shoulder to push him forward. "...See ya around, darlings..." Mrs Zabini said, waving with a smile.

As they walked in silence, Orion blankly stared straight ahead.

Mrs Zabini had told him that the Blacks were 'taking him', and he knew for a fact that wasn't Malfoy Manor, no.

The Malfoys were his family, not the Blacks. Viscaria. Mrs Malfoy. Mr Malfoy. Even Draco, even if he was a bit brat.

Tears wet his cheeks as he looked up at his great-grandfather. All thoughts of pleading died by the slight smile curling on the elderly codger's lips.

Well, it looked like somebody had really got what they wanted after all this time. The Blacks had the Black heir, they didn't care for the boy trapped in the title for as long as they wanted.

The Malfoys even had got what they truly wanted, their daughter Viscaria, without the excess burden of him. Viscaria was their daughter, their heir, their princess, their favourite and she was 'perfect'. All Orion had been was their ward, nothing more than that so it was his fault he'd fooled himself into thinking he was more important.

He gritted his teeth.

Well, at least some people were happy, but just his luck it wasn't him.

The thud of a door and the howl of the wind awoke Orion, finding that his great-grandfather had opened a door to the dreary outside.

The sky was a grey and Orion though he saw smoke wafting from somewhere out of site. There was a strange, almost foreboding, siren-bell sound ringing from what felt like everywhere and two men in Auror uniforms and trench-coats apparated right in front of them...

Orion opened his mouth. "Hey-!"

...The two man had already taken off, running down the alley.

Orion felt the grip on his shoulder tighten painfully. "Don't do that again," Lord Black's dangerous voice whispered in his ear, the hot breath making him shiver. "Now, take my hand, Orion."

And, Orion found the bony, hand of Lord Black practically in his face. "Uhh... I..." he said, glancing around for a place to bolt.

Lord Black's tightened his grip as if sensing his thoughts. "Chin up, Orion. It's not the end of the world, rather a new beginning," Lord Black said, a little more softly, seemingly, finally, pretending to care about his distress. "...Of course, you're upset but the set up with Malfoys just wasn't working and you'll come to realise that when we are not standing in the rain." His hardened and Orion met that with a glare. "...Now, take my hand..."

Orion stared at the outstretched hand.

He wanted to spit on it.

He almost did.

But, then he remembered his grandmother and the memories flashed... And, slow as a snail, he reached out for it, hesitating... maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

"No!" the words bursts from Orion's throat as he wrenched his hand back, turning to run away.

Lord Black roughly grabbed him and the world twisted...

* * *

**7th August, 1987**

* * *

**Lucius.**

Lucius' blurry eyes slid open.

There was a blurry face in his vision and, straining his eyes, his first thought was: why is there so much pink? "...You gave us quite a fright," the sugary sweet voice said, tsking.

His eyes slid to find Umbridge poised in a chair, a rose painted cup of tea pressed to her smiling lips. "U-Umbridge...?" he croaked, surprised and not in the good way.

"Enough of that, you need your rest, Mr Malfoy. I brought you some tea," Umbridge said warmly, setting a cup of steaming tea by his bedside. "...It's really horrific. You were just doing some shopping in Diagon Alley when you were nearly blown apart by an inexcusably terrible terrorist attack, weren't you?"

"Yes..." Lucius said, playing along as he took his tea and took a sip. He almost threw up. It was practically saturated with sugar. "...Very nice, thank you," he said with a strained smile, putting it back down on the beside table.

She smiled, sipping her own tea. Then, a thoughtful expression came on her face as if she had just remembered something that she absolutely must tell him!

"Your wife has been looking for you, by the way..."

He groaned.

* * *

**A.N: Been a while, hasn't it? Well, I'm not dead, I'm just at Uni!**


	23. Chapter 22: Paper Bonds

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a fanfiction, here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Flawed Design**

**Chapter 22: Paper Roots**

* * *

_"One time!"_

_There were smiles in the walls and they opened to laugh._

_"One time!"_

_The dark hallway was murky amber, shadows blurring together in their dance._

_"One time, please!"_

_"One time! I promise...!"_

_There was a shriek like a banshee and the laughter turned nasty._

_"One time? One too many!"_

_"Eloise?"_

_"Siri-"_

_Everything exploded._

* * *

**14th August, 1987**

* * *

He'd woken up with a start, cold sweat bleeding from his forehead.

The world was blurry and he felt light-headed. He tossed, turning in the soft sheets and froze. There was a shadowed figure across from him, standing still and silent, watching. He tried to scream, but nothing came out!

He couldn't move.

No, no, no...

And, blackness slid down his vision... He awoke with a start, gasping and almost choking on it. The smell hit his nose first. There was a slimy wetness about his body, the sheets sticking to him.

Ugh.

His cheeks went red; he'd wet himself.

"Great," he sighed, glancing at the bedside clock.

Ten to Seven.

He pushed himself of the bed, wincing at the 'squelching' sound, shivering as he made his way over to the dresser. Pulling the draw open, he paused for a moment, before stripping himself of his pyjamas, letting the wet clothes lay on the floor as he scrambled about and began to change.

He stared at the wet bed dispassionately. Well, he couldn't sleep on that - as if he could sleep at all! Sighing, he walked towards the door and turned the cool handle. There was a click and he was actually surprised when the door opened; it looked like the Blacks were confident enough to not even lock his door at night.

He stepped into the hallway.

Maybe, an early morning walk would clear his head.

He glanced up. The severed, stuffed house-elves' heads mounted up on plaques were... unpleasant to say the least. But, Lord Black had refused to take them down despite Lady Black's pestering; Kreacher was certainly grateful, the damn elf loved staring longingly at them... ugh.

"What was it grandmother said?" he muttered, wrinkling his nose. "...Reward for their service, huh?"

He cringed, slipping into the drawing room which was thankfully empty. It looked the same; the fireplace, the piano, the wallpaper, hell, even that old glass casing was there. It was the only room left largely untouched by Lady Black, which was a comfort.

He walked over to one of the large windows. He frowning as his eyes slid from the murky blue sky down to the snowy street below, where there were... Muggles. They were walking and sliding about in the snow, mostly looking very busy.

A child about his age was suddenly hit by a snowball, causing him to yell and shake his fist at a bunch of laughing girls. It escalated from there into a fun snowball fight, boys and girls dodging, shrieking and laughing as they were hit.

Irritated bystanders were trying to get past without getting hit, but some were unlucky... Orion sniggered as portly one was hit full on in the face and toppled over, his suitcase sliding across the ground.

He could almost hear the yelling through the glass.

Yes, the _Monstrous Muggles_ he'd never had the chance of meeting. The monsters he'd met were never muggles... He swallowed dryly, catching himself. He shouldn't think like that.

He couldn't help but shudder a bit.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he turned himself away. He was now facing the most striking feature of the room: the family tapestry. It spanned across the dark green walls, depicting all his relatives in all their grim gauntness and elaborately-hatted glory.

"They look like they were born for the morgue," he murmured to himself.

One face that stuck out to him the most was Mrs Malfoy. As always, she looked prim and proper despite the ridiculous hat.

He could never look at her for long.

His eyes slid away and consequently landed on Bellatrix Lestrange. Her dark lips were curled in a smug disdain, her dark eyes almost edging out of the tapestry with their cold intensity... all at him.

He felt a shiver.

Then, he chuckled weakly.

She strangely reminded him of Viscaria. _Not really flattering._

Still, it wasn't the faces on the tapestry that were the most striking, it was the burn marks marring it. Travelling down to one of the marks, his eyes settled on where Sirius Black II face should have been there to find and, as expect, a black mark with some of the fanciful curls of his father's name were all that were left.

His father.

The killer of Muggles in broad daylight, who'd been found having giggle-fit in the bloodbath in broad-Merlin-daylight by Aurors and was promptly arrested... He felt his stomach sink.

If his father was the Dark Lord's right hand man, why was this all that was left of him...?

It would not surprise him if there was more to that story than they were telling. He sighed, shaking his head because he knew that nobody would tell him anything worth knowing if they could lie.

He blinked and blinked, biting his lip.

"Oh, the bastard is here," a voice croaked from behind, interrupting Orion's thoughts.

Orion stiffened, blinking away the wetness in his eyes that he hadn't even realised was there. He turned around to face Kreacher, who was hunched at the doorway, decrepit in its rags.

"Yes, Kreacher?" Orion drawled, stifling the urge to bash the thing with that nearby lamp.

Despite not being the pinnacle of refinement, it still jutted out its pointed chin and nose as if Orion should be shinning its boots instead of the other way around. "Bastard is wanted in the breakfast room," it croaked harshly. "Bastard should take all his time and be caned for it." It eyes widening with glee.

"It's like seven-thirty," Orion said, blinking in surprise. "How can they- of course, they're up... practically Vampires," he added, his tone turning bitter.

Rage coloured the House-Elf. "Oh, you dare-!"

"Kreacher should get back to cleaning before I, the 'Black heir' accidentally break a really expensive vase and blames you to save his skin," Orion said, giving a confident and contemptuous look.

With that, Kreacher disappeared with a cracking sound.

It was funny because Orion was pretty sure Lord Black wouldn't believe him.

* * *

Nibbling on a piece of toast, Orion's eyes focused on the newspaper.

One of the freedoms the Black's actually allowed, considering even the Malfoy's hadn't let them read the newspaper.

He'd tried once, but Mrs Malfoy had been adamant that it was unnecessary and had practically thrust a short tale of The Wizard and the Hopping Pot in his hand - although, it was a book he'd ended up liking quite a bit with how the Wizard and the Hopping pot defeated the monstrous Muggles...

But, this wasn't a mercy.

It was torturing an animal in a cage.

**BLACK HEIR, LIAR? BLACKS GOOD?**

He couldn't even bring himself to read it. He couldn't. He moved the Daily Prophet aside, turning to the Wizarding World News and clearing his mind. Seeing the front page was something boring about discrepancies in the date Gringotts was founded and who exactly founded it, he flipped to the next page and his eyes latched onto the title.

**VOX GONE! B.W.M BACK!**

That name kept popping up like a ghost, huh.

**By Dahlia Turnpin,**

_The Vox Magi have made quite the stir in the British Wizarding World with their enigmatic nature__ and - of course - their string of bombings across Diagon Alley, most infamously the bombing last 16th July, resulting in twelve casualties and twenty-one injured..._

Orion paused.

He had known Diagon Alley had been bombed, but he hadn't known it was that bad!

_...kidnapping and execution of wizards and witches who supposedly have favourable views towards Muggleborns and Muggles, sending disturbing letters to Ministry officials and other violent actions. Ministry spokesperson, Stamford Jorkins, claims "The Ministry would do anything in their power to bring these fascist terrorists to justice". However, the fact that these criminals remain unpunished give many the impression must have very little power._

_"Yet, the Ministry has completely failed to bring these criminals to justice," Ruben Winikus, owner of Rubens Winikus and Company Inc., voiced in an interview with Wizard Weekly. "They've let us down. These terrorists hazardous actions have cost many lives, most bystanders just going about. The Ministry has failed to provide any progress bringing these criminals to justice."_

_Ruben Winikus is not the only one to voice discontent in the magical community. Agatha Lutterworth, the owner of rivalling company_ _Rhubarb &amp; Thistle, ha_s_ said "I've felt let down by the Ministry inaction with the Vox Magi." Two of her outlets were caught in the bombings and five employees of her company were killed. She remarked "Sometimes I feel a broomstick would bring people to justice quicker than the Ministry"._

_With all this discontent, is it a great mystery the British Wizarding Movement (B.W.M) is gaining so much support? Their reported membership_ _has risen to seventy-five as of early August and continues to grow at an alarming rate. In fact, a number of wizards and witches have expressed that they may support the B.W.M..._

"Enjoying the paper, Orion?" Lord Black's voice came, making Orion stiffen. He turned to find the elderly man sitting at the table, with an appraising look in eyes as he opened up his own Daily Prophet newspaper and began to read. "Ah, Wizarding World News? I think I prefer the Daily Prophet more..."

Orion scowled. "The Daily Prophet are liars..."

"Yes, they both are. That's why I enjoy them - the lies people think up are often more entertaining than the truth," Lord Black replied, as he read his paper. "The lies people tell can be quite informative on their capabilities and interests..."

"What do you mean?"

Lord Black sighed, folding his newspaper. "For example, the case of the Knockturn Slasher. The man kidnapped prostitutes and tortured them before killing them - forcing them to do things they'd much rather not..." Lord Black had a little distasteful look in his eyes and he didn't even care for those sort; Orion shuddered. "Madam Bones - of the D.M.L.E - is defending the fact that the public was not informed of this serial killer until after the man died, saying 'not to my recollection' and 'we did not wish to inform the killer we were tracking him'..."

"So what, Lord Black?" Orion asked, arching an eyebrow. "What does that matter?"

"The obvious. She's under a gag-order. The Ministry hate public panic; the lack of results and the overt incompetence is an absolute menace for their Public Information Service," Lord Black said as if it was obvious.

Orion blinked. "Don't you work for the Ministry?"

"Yes, I do. I know its incompetence best. Sometimes it's good to look incompetent... if the alternative is despicable and malicious," Lord Black sighed. "Public attitudes on those latter two have changed over the years. These idiotic, 'equalism' policies," he spat. "Anyone who disagrees with their brigade slandered."

"Hmm... I see," Orion said, only half-paying attention.

"Of course, crying about it is futile. Action is much more satisfying," Lord Black replied, taking a sip of his morning tea from his rose-painted teacup. There was an awkward silence for a while, and that seemed to stretch on forever with only being disturbed by the turning of dry pages. "Why don't we swap? Let's see if you can see what I've been talking about."

Lord Black slid his issue of the Daily Prophet to Orion and, after a moment of hesitance on his part, Orion handed him his issue of World News.

Meh, why not.

While Lord Black chuckled at something, Orion's eyes honed onto the front-page splash,

**'****DAYLIGHT ****VAMPIRES? TOO MUCH POWER?**

**BY RITA SKEETER,**

_For first time in history, Vampires were found walking around in daylight hours! How these blood-suckers have achieved this feat is currently unknown, but it's just another item on the 'too dangerous' __list. _

_For years, the Ministry of Magic have been worrying about Cauldron thickness or how to save their Supplementary Alcohol Beverage budget - that's deducted from our tax, by the way, my faithful readers! W__hat of the creatures skulking about in the shadows like cowards and terribly thirsty for poor, defensive, innocent, hard-working wizards and witches of the British Wizarding Republic...?_

Orion frowned.

You'd think Muggles would have been easier.

_...Nothing, but a few slaps on the rest and a bit of garlic in the nose!_

_While, Edward Murton - a Ministry Official for the Department of Magical Education - has declined to comment on the death of his son, Jasper Murton, the latest victim of the blood-suckers, but the victim's aunt Genevieve Murton can't keep silent. "The Ministry's track-record on keeping vampires under control is terribly, awfully sub-par! They barely even bother to registrate..."'_

Lord Black glanced over. "I don't think Murton knows what 'registrate' doesn't mean register."

"Yeah..." Orion said absently, reading.

_'"...the vermin beyond the lackadaisical methods, so how are people - especially know - going to able to tell friend from foe on the street!" __she told me in our interview over tea and biscuits. _

_Yet, this reporter wasn't shocked when the Ministry responded with the same old same old...'_

"...Merlin, it's like she's turning the paper into a gossip column," Lord Black said, setting his newspaper face-down in a neatly folded pile. "The age of narcissism. Everyone thinks they're special just because they were born." He sighed, before gesturing to the ticking grandfather clock. "Enough of that, anyhow. I believe its time..." he said with a grandfatherly smile edged with smugness.

Orion stared at him seriously. "...You know, you're not going to win."

Lord Black smirked. "...If I had a Galleon for everyone who once said that to me, I'd have another fortune," he said almost wistfully, patting him on the back and making him flinch. "Now. As I said. It's time," he said, staring him down with his intensely, old green eyes.

Orion scowled, but obliged, standing up.

* * *

Orion started his lesson with Lord Black.

Not a tutor, but Lord Black.

And, he still couldn't wrap his head around that.

It was honestly surprising since he didn't expect such a busy man like that to have the time of day. But, Lord Black apparently made time and moved the lessons accordingly to fit that time, even if Orion barely received notice of this fact well-in-advance. Which was frustrating, but Orion was frankly too astounded by the fact that Lord Black was bothering so much even if he was the Black heir.

But, these lessons were about teaching him how to be a Black. He supposed Black was probably the best option in that department, and, in all honesty, he was just thankful that it wasn't Cassiopeia.

So, Orion assembled in the classroom; the family tapestry room, of course.

No doubt, Lord Black chose it to remind him of "En stirps nobilis et gens antiquissima Black". The emboldened, Latin inscription tapestry which meant "Behold the offspring of noble birth and the nation of the most ancient of Black". The many, watching faces of his relatives around him to accompany that message.

A calculated move as always.

There were two desks in the room - a small one for Orion and then a large one for Lord Black, although the latter seemed to much prefer striding about the room. There was a quill and an inkpot, which he definitely wasn't going to use - of course, Lord Black seemed to frown a little when he used the fountain pen as if he'd failed a minor test, but who cared.

"I have no doubt the Malfoys have been somewhat thorough with your education. Narcissa never liked to do things in halves," Lord Black stated, as Orion kept his head down with his fountain pen poised at the ready over parchment. "Now, what is the significance of names and words, Orion?"

Orion looked up, frowning. "As what, Lord Black?"

The old codger sighed. "Words and names have power. They are conduits for magic and not mere fancy labels," he explained, almost irritated, and it made Orion blush a little. "Haven't you ever wondered why the name must live on? The name and the words all have their strings to magic and each play their - as what is your name, child?"

"Orion," Orion said flatly.

"Yes and what does it mean, Orion?" the old man replied, making Orion frown in confusion. Why the hell should he care what his name means? Lord Black shook his head. "Orion is the name of a constellation; a constellation far beyond ourselves." Lord Black eyed him. "And, why is that? Why do the Blacks have the tradition to frequently name their children names from astrological sources?"

Orion paused. "Because..." he trailed off, not sure what to say.

Lord Black sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Because names and words matter. The very reason we have words and names is to act conduits for magic - they bolster it." Orion open his mouth, but Lord Black dismissed him with a look. "...You may wonder the point? Incantations make sense because they make fanciful sparks, but what does it matter if someone's called Berty and another's called Vulpecula?"

Vulpecula? What kind of name was that, exactly? Orion would rather be called 'Berty' than have been called 'Vulpecula' for even a second.

"Well, Vulpecula is the name of a constellation," Orion said simply, realising that the man expected an answer. "Berty isn't, Lord Black."

Lord Black nodded, giving him a look. "Of course, Orion. You know the general fact, but you lack deeper understanding. What is the meaning of Vulpecula? What is the point?" Lord Black arched an eyebrow, but Orion kept silent. "The point of Vulpecula is magic. Us Black give our names meaning, because names are like spells in a way - we add to the character, even if it doesn't always work."

"Right..."

The old man smirked. "Vulpecula means "little fox"... Bellatrix means "female warrior"... they seem quite accurate for a Black. Of course, it's not always stars, but anything that can bridge the gap between human and nature. For example, Narcissa is from a flower..." Orion frowned. "...And, equals a quality of narcissism... surprising, isn't it?"

Orion paused. "Lord Black, what you getting...?"

"Oh, must I explain that one? Narcissa has always - even as a little girl - liked people to think she was kinder and more perfect than everyone around her, yet she could be just as cold and as callous," Lord Black said, giving him a look. "Do you think you agree with that assessment, Orion?"

At first, Orion wanted to say no.

But, perhaps Lord Black was a tiny bit right for once...

She hadn't even really looked at him the last time he'd seen her, as if he wasn't even there. Not only that, but he had a feeling it was her who gave him up - just way she'd acted. And, then Mr Malfoy had agree to it, but - maybe it was silly - it felt more like it was her fault he was here!

But, it was to save Viscaria.

He supposed he should buck up and remember he was just there ward, but...

_"...My wife loves you like a son..."_

He'd clung to that. Those words, all this time he'd been to the Malfoys he'd clung to that. And, he felt like Mrs Malfoy had misled him. She'd been so kind and familial, he'd almost thought of her as a mother; that would be the first time and hopefully the last in his life he'd have thought of someone like that, but...

"What was my mother like, Lord Black?" Orion said the question that had been on the tip of his tongue for days - or, maybe all his life even, even if he was unsure.

"That seems a jump from Vulpecula and Berty...?" Lord Black noted, his light green eyes observing him.

Orion frowned. "Nevermind then..."

"Giving up too easily is a sign of weakness, and unless that is your intent then I would advise pursuing what you seek," Lord Black reprimanded, walking over to him - the dragon-heed boots thudding against the polished, wooden floor. "You've already started the topic - given the game away and already told me what you want - so, spit it out."

"I want to know about my mother; nobody talks about her," Orion said, his lips set in a firm line, meeting the man's gaze. "I've heard plenty about my dad... 'wrongfully imprisoned', 'Dark Lord's man'; but, every time my mother comes up the Malfoys made it as brief and vague as possible before swiftly changing the subject." Orion looked down. "I'm not a complete idiot. I know they were avoiding it and..."

"...'That just made you want to know even more', hmm?" Lord Black finished, leaning against his desk with his arms folded and a wispy eyebrow raised.

Orion took a breath, swallowing dryly as he looked up at him. "Yes, Lord Black. I wanted to know more about my mother, but I gave up because no one would give me any answers..." Orion trailed off, looking down.

"And, you trust me to give them to you?" Lord Black said curiously, making Orion paused and look away. "...No? I see..." The old man nodded. "...You think that what I will say will be better than nothing, right?" he said softly, smiling in faint amusement.

"I think you'll tell be a sliver of truth," Orion said.

Lord Black tilted his head. "And, what if I don't?"

Orion's fingers skimmed the smooth mahogany in circles, thoughtfully. "'The lies people tell can be quite informative on their capabilities and interests'... right?" Orion said, fixing Lord Black a coy look. "I'm sure I'll find something."

"Are you...?" Lord Black raised an eyebrow. "And, if I remain silent...?"

"Mr Malfoy once said 'silence is an answer in itself'," Orion said, his nails digging a little into the desk for a moment. He fixed his great-grandfather a look.

"I see..." Lord Black said, a smirk curling lightly on his wrinkled lips, as he stood up straighter and folded his arms. "Well, what would you like to know, Orion...? I'll give you four - aren't I generous? - answers..."

Orion paused, because honestly there were too many questions. "My mother..." he began, the words clogging in his far too dry throat and coiling strangely on his tongue. What to ask? What was most important? Was anything about her not important? "Is my mother still alive; does she know where I am?"

"You do realise that counts as two questions," Lord Black clarified, arching an eyebrow. Orion bit his lip, nodding. "...Your mother is alive, but knowing isn't her forte."

"What does that mean?" Orion asked, narrowing his eyes, as he clenched his fists.

Lord Black looked at him for a while with light green stones for eyes. "Next question..."

"What? B-but you said - you said-!" Orion snapped, gritting his teeth.

Lord Black's eyes cooled. "I said that I would 'give you four answers', but I never said to which question," he said, his voice measured. "Next. Question."

"That's not fair, Lord Black!" Orion hissed, glaring at the man with hatred.

"If you think life is fair, you haven't been paying attention," Lord Black said, an edge underneath his calm voice. "Ask me another question - and, another if need be - and I will answer the ones I want to. This isn't an obligation on my part, but a kindness - a kindness I can retract."

Orion's anger left him like water down a plughole.

He hung his head, biting his lip.

Honestly, he wanted to spit in the man's face but he wanted to know, "Sorry, Lord Black," Orion apologised, knowing and hating himself for being too cautious and easy for his own good. "Next question... My mother... what was she like?"

Lord Black paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "Broad question, somewhat, but I'll accommodate. Your mother was an intellectual, reasonably expected of a Ravenclaw, I suppose." Orion felt a strange feeling in his chest at every word. "Adequately pretty, but I've never seen the fuss about brunettes." Orion blanched, not wanting to have known that little tid-bit. "Next question...?"

Orion paused, a thought that had been bugging him resurfaces in his mind. "Did she and my father love each other?"

"Probably not, but they seemed to love you," the grey-haired wizard said swiftly. Orion opened his mouth, more questions on the tip of his tongue, but Lord Black silenced him with a look. "No, Orion. I said four questions..." His voice was measured and vibrated across Orion's beings. "...Now, back-on-track, what does your name mean, Orion?"

"I don't know..." he said stiffly.

"It means 'Rising in the sky' and 'dawning'..." Lord Black said tersely. "You are of a great lineage on a knife's edge. Help bring a dynasty that will last centuries, help your father's house regain its prestige, help our name live on." His eyes burned, and Orion looked away. "...And, when you are older and you have children, you'll have little regrets."

"I doubt that," Orion murmured.

"Somehow, I knew you were going to say that," he said, a strange mixture of amusement and irritation. "But, you will come to see things my way..."

"Do I have a choice?" Orion dared to ask.

Lord Black gave him a dry look. "No... the only choice you have is how painful you want it to be."

He would always remember that conversation.

It made him boil with anger.

* * *

**15th September, 1987**

* * *

It was a wet, gloomy day.

Of a very handsome height, the Gosforth House was made out of grey stone, gloomy and brittle. Its dark-wooden windows hardly added any brightness. The white, stone steps led up to a black door had a golden knocker. The roof was of black tile and arched upwards almost like it was trying to knife the sky.

"It's rather quaint, isn't it?" Lady Black said.

Orion rolled his eyes, but she didn't notice. "Yes... I guess."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," she said, giving him a reassuring smile he didn't want nor need.

"Something ought to be, at least once," Orion said flatly, pulling up the collar of his coat. "I still doubt it."

"I'm sure you'll make lots of friends," Lady Black said insipidly, giving him a brainless smile, as she grabbed the door knocker and swiftly rapped it against the door before stepping back. .

He couldn't help but scowl. "I doubt that."

"Now, there is no need for such negative countenance. It's unbefitting," she admonished, shaking her head and giving him a pitying look. "I know it must be hard to move on after all this, but you should not make your circumstances harder for yourself. You ought to move on and be happy, dear."

Orion's eyes flashed. "Don't tell me what's-"

The door opened to reveal a lobby with marble floors and two stairways that twisted up the circular walls, meeting at each of many floors only to depart again. There was a rustic chandelier gleaming above and flickering torches aligned the stone walls as well as thickly-laid, dark-brown, open-back paneling.

"Lady Black, good evening," Mrs Gosforth said, a pale, severe-looking witch with waspish, amber eyes and pouty, unsmiling lips pronounced by lines like a fish. Her brown hair seemed to be tied back, but instead of a bun it twisted up in a cone-shape. "I see you've brought Orion. My son is very eager to meet him."

They seemed to expect Orion to respond. He refused.

Lady Black smiled awkwardly. "That's nice to hear."

They followed Mrs Gosforth to a nearby room. It had a white fireplace with an ornate mantle - with various black-and-white pictures on top. The brocade furniture were mostly emerald green, dark gold or black, with a dark wood framing. The bookshelves were mahogany, as well as the tables and cabinets. And, there were many portraits of poised, somewhat dour, wizards and witches hanging on the walls.

Orion looked down.

It was also full of new people. It almost made him sick like deja vu.

"So, this is Orion," a dark-skinned woman with black hair in a beehive of box braids said. She was wearing a white blazer with a cravat scarf and black belt that had a bronze buckle, her black skirt going to her knee and had silver heels on. "You look taller than the pictures." Orion didn't reply. "I'm, well, I suppose 'Mrs Parangyo' will suffice. This is my daughter, Ona."

Ona had short, naturally curly, black hair. He'd never seen a girl with short hair before, although it looked pretty. She wore a blue blouse and green, flower-patterned skirt with white socks and shoes. "Hello."

"Hi..." Orion said unenthusiastically as possible.

Ona blinked.

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Mrs Gosforth said coolly. She beckoned a somewhat familiar, dark-haired boy forward. "I trust you remember my son, Damon Gosforth. I've heard you met before.

"We have?" Orion said, raising an eyebrow.

The dark-haired boy with the weak chin frowned. "You expressed interest in my book."

Orion blinked, vaguely remembering. "I did?"

"Yes..." 'Damon' said, looking very disheartened. "It was..." His eyes flickered to his mother almost nervously. "It was a good book. I got it-"

"Oh yeah, you took it from your mum's private collection, right...?" Orion said, a troll-like smile faintly curling on his lips. Damon's face paled instantly and his mother pursed her lips, looking very displeased. "...Oh, I wasn't supposed to say that, wasn't I?" He scrunched up his brow. "My bad."

"Ahh, yes," Lady Black said awkwardly. "Why don't we move on?"

Mrs Gosforth gave an affirming look. "That's for the best, I think. Anyway, unfortunately the Zabinis could not come, familial troubles, I hear." She turned her attention to Ona, Damon and Orion. "Why don't you three go to the nursery? It's quite delightful, well, I hear it is."

Orion rolled his eyes.

The nursery? He'd rather be kidnapped, again.

"Of course, mother," Damon said, obedience dripping from his voice as he turned around like a dutiful soldier. He awkwardly glanced at Ona and Orion, brushing his hands before walking towards the door, Ona promptly following him.

Orion stayed were he was.

"Orion. Go with them, please," Lady Black said, her voice straining.

Orion shrugged, flowing after at a deliberately slow pace out of the room, earning looks of annoyance and disapproval at his back. Stepping through the doors, the other children were waiting outside and looked really awkward.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind and they began to walk down the corridor, Orion lagging behind."The nursery? I'd much rather not," Orion said, making them all pause and turn to him.

Damon frowned. "Mother said we should go to the nursery."

"Nobody cares about your mother and nobody cares about you," Orion said matter-of-factly.

"Well, he does have a point," Ona said, shrugging her shoulders. "Well, I mean on the first bit. I'm sure the latter isn't true." She gave an affronted Damon a reassuring smile. "I mean, we're like all at least nine or in your case ten, we're too old for a nursery room."

"We'll get in trouble,"

"Only if we're caught. You're not going to rat on us, Damon?"

Damon blinked, before glaring at him indignantly. "You 'ratted' on me!"

"Must have been the craziness of these past few months. I completely forgot you stole it," Orion lied, but Damon didn't look too convinced. "Anyway, what should we do... instead of going to the nursery," he said, he and Ona looking at Damon with curiosity.

"W-Well, we could go to the library?"

Ona gave Damon a dry look. "Oh, and read? No."

"Merlin, this is so boring," Orion groaned, shaking his head. "I don't suppose you have any Quidditch stuff, broomsticks? We could sneak out and play that without them knowing."

"No, I don't have any of that," the other boy said, shaking his head

"Well," Orion snorted, shaking her head. "That's not shocking."

"It's either the nursery or the library. There's nothing else," Damon said, scowling at him. "Unless you have any bright ideas about my house?"

"Burning it to the ground might be one," Orion said, putting on his best (well, what he could remember) Kai-like grin.

Damon paled.

"Hey, that's mean," Ona said, giving Orion a look.

"Well... I'm sorry," he said completely insincerely. There was a pause. "Fine, let's go to the bloody nursery." Ona blinked and Damon gasped at his language. "Is there a chess board or something at least?"

"W-What?"

"A chessboard. You play chess."

"Yes, there is."

They continued down to the nursery in awkward silence.

* * *

They'd settled for a game of chess.

His brow furrowed, glaring the board.

"Bishop to A4." Damon's face was glowingly smug, his black bishop sliding across the glass board. "I win," he said, his piece knocking Orion's king over with a swipe from its little spear

Orion glared. "You cheated."

"What?" the other boy said, eyes widening in surprise and Ona gave Orion an indignant look. "No," he blurted out, his brow scrunching as he looked at him warily.

Orion flipped the board over, the pieces letting out surprised yells as they scattered to the floor. "You cheated," he said, staring coolly at the brown-haired boy

"Hey!" the other boy yelled, jumping down to the floor and trying to heave up as many twitching pieces as possible, dropping some again in the process.

Ona stumbled down to her knees to help Damon."What are you doing, meanie?" she snapped, glaring up at him.

Orion snorted, leaning back in his chair. "Meanie?"

"Yes, were just trying to be nice to you, but all you've been is pigheaded and trollish and-and... ugh," Ona huffed, throwing up her arms. "Don't you have any respect? This is Damon's house and you just waltz in like you own the place; it's infuriating!"

Orion felt anger, leaning forward in his chair and giving her a deathly look. "Oh, because you're the victim here?" he sneered, making Ona wince. "I'm sorry - well, I'm not - but, you can't be that stupid!"

She blinked. "Excuse me, what?"

Orion chuckled harshly, feeling like he could cry. "You think you're going to be my friends? I was taken from friends," he said coldly. "Do you think I'm here because I have a choice? I'm stuck here with you because I don't!"

"Maybe... it doesn't excuse you being a... a..."

"Need some help. Doesn't 'excuse me' from being a 'douchebag', a 'brat', a 'shithead', right?" Orion almost smiled at her and Damon's shocked looks - thank you, Kai! "I don't need an excuse." He gritted his teeth. "I don't care, I just don't, because... because I hate you," he practically spat the last words, standing up and turning on his foot, heading for the door.

"Where are y-you going?" Ona's voice called.

"You can't just leave."

Orion paused at the door, his hand brushing against the cool metal doorknob. "No, I can't. I'm stuck," he whispered, feeling his head droop and his forehead brush against the wood. "Nothing I can do," he said, feeling like he could lean on the door forever.

"What was that?" Damon's voice came.

Orion lifted his gaze up to the ceiling, the door looming over him. "Nothing, nothing that matters," he said, stepping away and turning towards them. "...How about another game, then?" he said with false bravado, shrugging his shoulders.

"What?"

"We should pass the time until..." Orion trailed off, a strained smile on his face. "Now, that I've let it all out, you're all going to tattle-tale on me... miles well get another game of chess in now since my future isn't looking too bright."

"No, we won't," Ona said, scrunching up her brow and glancing a nervous Damon.

"Yes, you will. You don't have a choice, even you know that," Orion said slowly. "Doesn't make me like you any more, but it could be worse." They gave him a look. "I'll... I'll even help you pick up the pieces," he added stiffly, cursing himself with how unsure he sounded.

Ona look him in the eye, before deflating. "Okay..."

The next chess game was between Ona and Orion, since Damon was still a little sour due to being melodramatic.

* * *

**A.N: Here it is, after all this time. I've just been so busy this year, so much work!**


	24. Chapter 23: Babylon

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all - I'm just a guy writing a , here. Harry Potter franchise is the property of J.K Rowling and Warner Bros. and probably other people who are probably nearly just as important.**_

* * *

**Chapter 23: Babylon **

* * *

**4th October, 1987**

It was the newspapers again.

As long as people still whispered about it as well, people wondered, stared, they would keep coming. Public interest was at an all time high and the only people really asking the questions were the journalists (even if most of it was the wrong questions!), which was 'business as usual' as Lord Black said.

"How do you find your new family?"

He'd wanted to melt into his chair. To stop existing then.

Same question as the last hundred times. Why did they pretend this stuff was new?

Mouths were creased into smiles inconsistently, hungry eyes and blinding flashes. There was a manic atmosphere to it, like if these journalist didn't even get even the last scrap of information for their deadlines, they'd starve.

Huh, maybe they would...?

"...Orion?"

Lord Black's smile told him if he answer wrong there would be pain. To others, the smile was grandfatherly, easy-going and just a way to encourage his great grandson who just wasn't quite used to the public eye. They didn't see how thin and sharp it was, that it was a dagger in plain sight.

Orion smiled and opened his mouth.

He'd got better at lying.

"I've only been with the Blacks for a short while, but they have been most gracious and accommodating... The Blacks may seem intimidating on the surface, all that history and culture they hold on their shoulders with pride and ease." He smiled and Lady Black gave him an encouraging nod. "Don't get me wrong, though. Underneath the underneath, Lady Black is like a mother to me now and Lord Black... is a teddy-bear." His smile widened.

His great grandfather's lips twitched. His great grandmother smiled. The crowd chuckled, some coughed.

He wanted to say something he'd really regret... but he was weak.

Orion had ask over and over again to himself 'Why? Why him?'. That question was ancient now. He knew 'why', it was because nobody, nobody that matter, really cared about how much everything hurt.

There was some laughter, mostly forced. Lord Black must have cracked a joke.

"...ley, Daily Prophet. Lord Black," said a wizard politely. "There are some accusations questioning the validity of the Acquisition papers? If you were denied the first few times, why be accepted now? What's changed?" It was confident, cautious and almost daring. It made Orion look up.

Middle-aged.

Crinkled brown suit.

A yellow hat.

He recognised the journalist a little. He'd interviewed the Malfoy's a couple times. Curiosity satisfied, Orion leaned back in his chair, resting his head on his palm and stifling a sigh.

If he kept asking questions like that, he'd be dealt with. It was a fact, immutable, no pretending otherwise.

Lord Black let out a deep, sharp, good-humoured laugh. "I made a strong case. It was that and my persistence. The Black heir belongs with the Blacks..." He paused, smiling. "His family. To deny a boy his heritage and family is the greatest abuse of all, I'm sure you all agree?" There were a fair few nods in the crowd, a few mumbled 'yeses' and smiles as well.

The journalist in the yellow hat looked for a moment like he'd back off, but instead he leaned forward. "I see... I'm sorry but that didn't answer my... my question," he said, his wavering just a little, and few people glanced his way.

Orion blinked.

"Ah, I apologise. Sometimes I lose myself on a tangent. Go ahead, Mr...?" Lord Black said, his eyes flickering to him.

"Smudgley, Daily Prophet," the man said, paused and then continued. "What exactly changed the Child Acquisition Department's mind? My source says that you were deemed you unfit for guardianship for a multitude of reasons; what changed? How did you change their minds?"

Lord Black paused. "It wasn't me who changed their minds." He smiled, tilting his head to his wife and letting out a deep laugh. "Mel..." His smile became a little strained and Orion almost smiled at that. "Please tell us your story."

Orion almost snorted.

_'Her story?'_

Lady Black almost seemed a little ruffled. "Well... I felt rather hurt that they'd deem us unfit to be guardians, Orion is our great grandson after all, the heir. He had so much to learn and... they'd deny him it." She frowned, shaking her head. "They said we were too old. They forget that a lot of the greatest wizards and witches are old, I think you know who we're talking about specifically?"

There were murmurs of "...Dumbledore.", but Lady Black neither confirmed or denied.

"I believe... no, I know that we have a lot of fight in us. Raising Orion to be loved, well-cared for and to be an upstanding wizard who is a credit to the world has given us more of a reason to live these past few months than decades..." A wetness gathered in her eyes like she would cry but she wouldn't. "And, he's such a wonderful boy. We couldn't not have him..."

Wasn't that an understatement...? Orion wanted the chair to swallow him.

Meanwhile, Smudgley and a few other journalists looked a little more impatient. Understandable.

"...I had a long talk with them, showing how our financial was good, our record exemplar..." Only because they were too smart or because everyone else was just so stupid, or maybe afraid, to catch them. "Their main and I dare say only concern was age. That the fire was lit and the cauldron was empty. It makes me laugh; nonsense, discrimination..." she chuckled, shaking her head, and other's joined in. "Ageism isn't a legitimate excuse."

"How do you think the Malfoys feel about this?" She was a blonde in a shiny, purple jacket with a black, fluffy monster of a collar and colourful buttons, leopard-black glasses on her nose, wearing an ankle-length skirt with striped stockings and had glowing red shoes on...

Orion blushed, averting his eyes from her legs.

Rita Skeeter.

He remembered her. Hard to forget.

Lady Black had frozen mid-smile.

"The Malfoys realise that the best place for Orion is here. Of that, I'm sure. We are indebted to them for their patience and understanding," Lord Black pitched in, and it was all a big joke no could ever know the punchline of.

"Veloria Malfoy seems to disagree," another journalist pitched, a long-haired, ginger-haired man in a green robe. "Daily Prophet... again."

"Are we no longer going one at a time?" Lord Black said curtly, before pausing. "Does the Prophet really need three journalist to cover one press conference? It seems like a waste of manpower..." he added idly, his eyes lazily sliding between the three.

Someone in the crowd, a dark-skinned witch, sniggered. "Wasting money is what they do best. Daily Prophet, Daily Losses." She was in a gold-striped dress with a yellow apple brooch at her breast and on her head a red pinafore with a thin, green twin leaves dangling off..

Weird. Why would you have a yellow apple for a brooch?

Rita Skeeter scowled. "Back to the question at hand." She pushed up one of those stretched smile she'd stored away somewhere on her person. "Veloria Malfoy has been peddling out quite a few accusations."

Lord Black sat up straighter in his chair. "Hearsay. It's well-documented that Veloria Malfoy doesn't quite enjoy my company. She'll say anything out of pure spite, not out of a desire for goodness and certainly not for the good of Orion," he said, his voice a little quicker and with an edge to it he couldn't quite soften.

There was a beat of silence.

The deathwish was hanging in the air. Who was going to take it...?

"But, that wasn't always the case, was it?" Well, it wasn't like vultures truly knew what was good for them and what wasn't.

Lord Black's eyes cooled. "And, who are you?"

Just as the ginger-haired wizard opened his mouth to reply, a blond wizard came stumbling into the room, looking rather haggard and trying to catch his breath. His spectacles were askew and his grey robes twisted around his legs, creased and crinkled.

Lord Black made a 'ahem' sound.

The blond just made a bee-line for Rita Skeeter, paying everyone else no mind.

"Profidius...?"

He whispered something Skeeter's and her eyes widened a fraction. Surprise. A feeling of morbid. Then a gleam of interest. She stood up. "To answer your question from earlier, Lord Black. This is why we have more than one reporter here." She smiled brightly. "Goodbye, it was lovely talking to you. Smudgley, Ginger, stay here." Then, she practically ran out the room.

'Profidius' quickly followed.

There was a pause.

Someone swore. "That bitch." It was a dark-skinned witch with the apple brooch. She stood up as well, grabbing her handbag, almost stumbling over herself as she left the room herself, the two leaves attached to her hat bobbing back and forth erratically.

There was a lot of murmuring.

What had been so important that Skeeter would just leave? It was making the journalists antsy, their feet were tapping against the floor, looking around at each other and where Skeeter had left.

"Oh, just go." Lord Black was massaging his forehead. "This press conference is over. I'm sure you have enough material to work with."

There was a lot of fumbling, murmuring, screeching of chairs against the wood (it made Lady Black wince), people stuffing things into their pockets, buttoning their jackets and some picking up their coats. Others seemed to disappear, one moment in their chair, the next out the door with all their belongings, it was almost graceful.

Soon enough, there were only a few stranglar left and they would be gone soon.

Lord Black stood up, beckoning Lady Black and Orion to follow.

Sighing, Lady Black stood up, her hand patting Orion's shoulder as she passed him and causing him to flinch a little away. She frowned, but said nothing, as she followed her husband out the room.

"Orion..." The expectant, deep and threatening baritone.

Scowling at the floor, Orion pushed back against the table causing his chair to screech sharply. This was going to be a pain. He sighed, standing up and twisting around, before walking after them with his shoulders slumped.

Lady Black wasn't there. She tended to fuck off a lot as if it didn't make her accountable if she wasn't there.

Mr Black was standing before the ornate fireplace, his back to Orion and the green fire illuminating his shadow. What was with these people and green fire? Was normal fire just too boring and neutral for them? The whole place looked like an evil lair hazardously and freshly painted over to trick people into thinking it was more welcoming, it was like a goblin in a pink dress and covered in makeup.

Thanks, Lady Black. Mrs Malfoy wouldn't be impressed.

He paused.

The mentioning of her made his gut twist. It made him want to smash something.

"Don't think I didn't notice that slight..." the grey-haired man said absently, his hands clasped together, his fingers touching a silver ring with the Black insignia on it. "A smarter boy, a Slytherin, would not poke a Dragon to be _petty_," he almost spat the word out, ripping his gaze from the fire to give Orion a sour look.

Orion almost balked. A Dragon, seriously?

Lord Black expected an answer. He was like that. Pretended there was a chance and then take it away, gone and said it was fair.

"It's a fluff-piece. There's no respect in it." He almost smiled, that was a pretty clever retort if he did say so himself.

"There is. There is a system. The Journalists know what questions to ask and what not to ask. They don't step on any Dragon Eggs, I don't step on them." Orion snorted, that seemed to unsurprising anger Lord Black. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking; this is funny, things didn't go Lord Black's way. Such a child." He let out a short laugh. "I wouldn't let you leave my side even if I and everything else was burning to ashes."

"You're angry." He paused. "Will you kill them?"

Lord Black gave him a look, almost incredulous. "I'm a politician, not a terrorist." He smiled, amused and wry. "In fact, I rather consider myself a closet political idealist. I'm always working for all of wizarding society, and some medicine is more painful than others."

"Never said you were a terrorist." Although, it wasn't like Lord Black was exactly on the opposite spectrum of that, he just preferred others to do the dirty work. "Just asked if you'd kill them if they keep asking questions you don't like."

His great grandfather raised an eyebrow. "Who says they were asking questions I didn't like?"

Orion paused, blinked and furrowed his brow. "...It didn't need to be said," he said slowly, only half-succeeding in getting the snort out of his voice. "I mean-" he cut himself off from saying more, he couldn't be bothered.

The old man noted his silence, turning to look back at the green flames.

Orion pressed his lips together.

"I've never killed anyone."

Orion blinked. "What?

Lord Black didn't even look at him. "I do something easier and crueler. I ruin them."

* * *

**15th October, 1987**

He was tired.

He couldn't sleep well.

And then he woke up to this, the same shit, everyday. Everything that was good was fake and every that was bad was worse. It was sickening, he felt sick to his stomach. And while his life in here was horrible, the world out there was hardly better.

The details kept coming day by day, recycling the same gore.

The Vox Magi were back.

The Vox Magi had proven themselves even more ruthless. They'd sent wooden boxes with ashes in them to numerous families, their names scratched out although not enough to make then unintelligible and carved the words 'Blood-traitor', 'Mudblood' or even an occasional 'Half-breed' above them.

He'd thought the bombings had been bad, but the bombings were chaos. This was a cold knife, precisely aimed and always accurate. It felt worse, somehow.

And yet Lord Black was apathetic to it all.

"Huh," Lord Black let out an amused snort, turning a page.

Mostly apathetic.

It wasn't surprising. The man hardly care about anyone, least of all Blood-traitors and Mudbloods. Orion wasn't sure he cared about them either, but still it just seemed... 'wrong' to do it that way, it was so cold-hearted.

His disgust fueled his bravery. "Did you have something to do with this?" he asked, slowly setting the buttering knife down right next to his plate of toast.

Lord Black paused, before letting out an annoyed sigh. "Why do you always assume the worst of me? This showmanship is far from my tastes," he said, dropping the paper carelessly on the table.

"You have some control over the Vox Magi. It isn't just convenience that after ending up in their hands, I ended up in yours?" Orion looked accusingly at him. Did the man think he was an idiot...? "Come on, tell me. I'm just a child. Nobody would believe me even if I wanted to tell," he said innocently, an earnest smile on his lips.

"Do you want to?" the old man said blankly.

"Want to what?" Orion blinked, giving him a look.

"Learn something delicate. Tell anyone. Gossip. Betray my confidence in my beloved great grandson. Watch this house burn down with your great grandparents in it. Skip back towards the Malfoy Manor with pigtails in your hair and have them welcome you back with chocolate truffle, apple juice and Muggle-inspired rags?" Lord Black said lightly, leaning back in his chair.

He stared, then scowled. "Obviously something towards that effect. And, here I thought you weren't a terrorist..." He snorted, before pausing. "And, 'Muggle-inspired rags'? It's not like Parangyo or the Gosforths dress all that different!"

Besides, they had the right idea! He morosely stared down at his velvet robes... they were like a itchy sack, a heavy sack at that. He'd nearly tripped over while going down that stairs in them this morning.

He missed his old clothes. Which had mysteriously gone missing...

He scowled.

Lord Black coughed. "Yes... I have noted their... misguided attempts to dress themselves... I have let it slide because the rest of their intentions and skills more than make up for it..." He paused, before shaking his head. "I have also learned that telling witches how to dress often turns out badly. You should remember that, it may one day save you some pain," the man cringed.

Orion gave him a dry look. "Moving on." He ground out. "So, you're saying you had nothing to do with this?"

"I don't believe myself responsible, no," the old man said, raising his hands in mock-placation.

Not much of answer. It wasn't like responsibility and connection were mutually exclusive. Still, Orion had little hope that Lord Black with give him anything to work with, not even which wizarding grocers he sent Kreacher to.

"Okay, then," Orion said simply, resuming buttering his toast.

Lord Black picked up his newspaper.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, broken every once and a while by the turning of a newspaper page or the scrape of a knife as more butter was applied to toast. Orion thought he was overdoing it, it was coming to a head and there'd be more butter than toast on his plate, but he couldn't eat and he had to do something.

He felt his great grandfather's gaze pass over him a few times.

What was he thinking?

He wasn't even sure to whom that question was being directed at.

Lord Black sighed, folding the newspaper up and placing it back on the table. Then, he just stared at Orion, expectant, almost impatient, and Orion pretended just not to notice, too focused on his toast, of course.

"You'll die if you keep doing that," Lord Black said and, even though he was gesturing to the toast, Orion flinched. "Don't let your young age fool you."

"Hmm. I'm not really hungry, today..." In fact, ignoring the fact he felt unsettled, he also felt bored. He felt like he'd been cuped up in this house for so long and there was nothing to do, nothing fun. "Are we going anywhere today?"

Lord Black gave him a dry look, the clock ticked and he kept it up for several more moments. "Not to the best of my knowledge..." he said slowly, as if he'd gone senile, before taking a sip of his tea.

Orion folded his arms. "The Malfoy's would have taken me somewhere."

"Hmm," was the only sound the old man made, at the most half-acknowledging.

Sighing, Orion put on his most polite smile. "Please sir, may we go somewhere today?" he said, leaning forward in his chair and trying to keep his eyes from pleading. "I promise to be on my best behaviour."

Lord Black looked up. "Do you now? Anything else?"

"I promise to... to... to..." Orion trailed off, scrunching his brow. What could he promise that would be easy and cause him the least amount of pain? Honestly, he shouldn't promise anything, it was just going outside and it wasn't like he was desperate.

After all, he'd only been in here two to three weeks. Nothing to loose a wand over.

"Ah, I have an idea. Not mention the 'Malfoys' for a month," Lord Black said, sounding enlightened as he raised a bony finger in the air. "I'd shake your hand on a deal like that... when your hand isn't covered in butter, of course."

Orion looked down. Oh.

Blushing, he wiped his hands on his napkin.

He supposed he could stop mentioning them. It wasn't like he was happy when he did. But, letting Lord Black have a victory that easy - to try to control a name that brought him great pain and nostalgia? To try to take that from for a month? It felt wrong.

That wasn't Slytherin. His heart almost seized.

That wasn't logical. Emotional. Sentimental. Self-Indulgence. Nostalgia. It wasn't an advantage when applied to useless things like that. It would help just as well as stepping on a Blast-Ended Skrewt...

He didn't want to lose.

Lord Black was playing a game. He didn't know the game, he didn't know what prize there was (if there was one), he didn't know the rules, where one game ended and another began - and Lord Black still expected him to play. The bastard.

It was the battle, not the war.

He wouldn't give Lord Black a piece. He was an idiot.

Orion smiled. "No." He bit into his toast. It tasted mushy, smooth and awful; he swallowed it all down. "It's dangerous outside, I should stay here - all sorts, as you say. Still, thanks for the offer, sir." He smiled.

* * *

**27th November, 1987**

His days were pretty routine.

And, then and again in his time table there was this slot.

Ona. Damon.

His hand-selected friends. He didn't hate them, not at all. They could give him moments of fun, and it wasn't like trust was highly valued in his previous 'friendships' that much. Still, they bothered him, especially when they made him forget.

It was like Lord Black was winning.

They weren't important. They were insignificant. To the side. He reminded himself.

He hadn't seen Dam- Darius and he hadn't seen Viscaria for a long time. He hadn't seen Daphne or Phylis for a longer time still; it wasn't even that he knew or had been best friends with them, but they were familiar. Nothing was familiar here, everything was forced on him.

It was like one reality trying to squash the other, it was wrong.

Today, they were playing chess. It wasn't a surprise or anything. What was was that it was only Damon today. Normally Madam Parangyo would let an opportunity slip by where she could shove Ona on him, it was like she wanted them to get married.

He grimaced.

Don't even think about it...

Damon's knight knocked Orion's bishop off the board with the mighty swing of its little sword. Yes, Damon was winning. Not because he was great, surely not, but because Orion was a loser.

He chuckled.

The brown-haired boy gave him that glance, it was careful and not just because of the game. "It's your turn, Orion," he said matter-of-factly.

Damon's eyes were just so bright when they looked at him like that. Ona had the same look. They were bright and he wasn't talking about colour. He could see it, he could see his own eyes were different and didn't even need a mirror for that.

"No."

Damon blinked. "Huh?"

"I'm sick of this game," Orion huffed, leaning back in his chair and giving Damon a look.

The other boy snorted. "So, you're surrendering?"

It was silly, but Orion just scowled. "No, just stopping."

"It's the same thing," Damon said tersely, giving him a half-confused, half-annoyed look. He just stared and Damon sighed, which was really grating. "Just play the damn game. Just because you're losing doesn't mean you should just give up."

"I said 'no'," Orion said slowly, glaring at him.

Damon huffed. "Come on, Orion, I was-"

Orion sneered. "No. Shut up."

Pausing, the brown-haired boy smiled charmingly in way that made Orion want to knock his teeth out. "Hey, I'll go easy on you. Look here..." The boy began moving his hand to point at a piece-

There was a change in the air, a burst of rage. "I said no!" The board flew off the table, the chess pieces scattering across the floor. Orion sneered at the shocked boy. "Are you that stupid? Do you speak English? I can't be bother to play your stupid game, I'm tired of it!"

Damon stared. "...Merlin... calm down..."

"Calm down? Calm down?" Orion stood up and let out a sharp laugh. "Where do I even start? I'm tired. Sick of this. Why do I have waste my time here of all places with a loser like you?" Damon flinched. "All you do is read boring books or play boring chess. I'm not even sure if you eat."

Damon furrowed his brow, gritting his teeth. "What? You've got to be kidding?"

Orion shrugged. "Nope."

The brown-haired boy recoiled a little, giving him a strange look. "...Well, if you got to know me-" he said earnestly, looking at him in that way. Orion hated it, he hated how he looked at him.

"You're not worth the effort," Orion sneered, folding his arms.

Damon looked hurt, it almost made his gut twist, but then he opened his mouth. "You're not either!" he snapped, raising his nose up and giving him a petulant look. "You're... you're nothing special."

"What?" Orion glared, his voice coming out so harsh it hurt his throat. "I'm the Black heir. What are you?" He immediately regretted those words. They were true, but he regretted them.

The other boy rolled his eyes, snorting. "So you like being the 'Black heir' when it suits you? Hypocrite."

Orion swallowed. He didn't know what to say, his mouth was flopping about, taking in air. When he closed his mouth, he felt like he'd pop like a balloon.

He clenched his fists.

Damon was dead wrong. He wasn't like that. This was unfair, why didn't anyone see it but him?

"Do you want to be the Black heir?" Orion said quietly.

Damon stared at him like he was an idiot. "Be heir to one of the most oldest and powerful families in Britain. A family that has shaped centuries and wizarding culture. To have that name and as pure as that, magical blood flowing through your veins... you don't know how lucky you are."

Lucky.

Yet, it calmed him down. It amused him.

He couldn't help it, he laughed, it sounded forced. "Did you read that in a book?" Damon scrunched up his brow. "You wondering: 'so, what if I did?', aren't you?" Orion smiled, pressing his hand against his forehead. "There's a thin line between a gift and a burden. It's to do with the persons willingness to bear it." Damon opened his to speak, but he didn't let him. "Preconception and appearance aren't going to tell you anything."

"What does that mean?"

"You think you know what I should be and because you think you know you believe you are better than me," Orion said, smugness slipping into his voice. "You think, shouldn't Orion be grateful? His family is everything a family should be: powerful, pure, of the grandest lineage. I'd kill him if I could take his place." His smile sharped at the look on Damon's face.

The other boy spluttered. "I-I wouldn't..."

"Huh, you wouldn't?" Orion said lazily, leaning back in his chair, propping his feet on the table and carelessly knocking a rook onto the floor. "Isn't that something?" he teased, letting out a yawn and closing his eyes.

He really should get more sleep.

That was how Cassiopeia found them. Damon picking up the chess pieces, looking rather sullen, and Orion relaxing in his chair with a smile on his face. Orion had heard her footsteps, he imagined she didn't look impressed.

"Gosforth. Your mother is here. Go," Cassiopeia's clipped voice rang out.

There was a scuttle of feet, and Orion opened his eyes just to see Damon dashing through the door without another word. He didn't even say goodbye. Orion frowned as he turned to face Cassiopeia, he hadn't seen her in a while, she didn't visit often despite the impression she made when she did.

"Feet off the table. Sit up straight," her sharp voice came, and Orion did just that before he could even think. He wondered if he showed his nervousness, because she smiled. "No need to be so tense, not for now, Orion. I think you'll be pleased."

"Oh... ma'am?" he said making sure 'ma'am' sounded very much an afterthought.

The look she gave him was intimidating, and her giant, twisting beehive made her look taller and more menacing oddly.

Orion swallowed, but tried to remain passive.

"I'm going to be very kind, even though I don't like you. That broomstick has runaway." Orion almost winced - ouch? "What will not leave is your ineptitude. I can practically hear the bones in your shoulder cracking under the pressure. My cousin has long force himself to forget what it is to be a stupid, little boy; I have decided to remember everything for him."

Orion wanted to smirk and scowl at the same time.

Instead he looked at her blankly. "I'm sorry. What do you want, Auntie?" he said with some false cheer.

"I want you to be Damon and Ona's best friend. The next time I see you, you will be making childhood memories you will smile at in twelve years. I don't care if you have to lie, lies are the foundation of many friendships." Her thin lips creased into a smile, it made him shudder. "I don't just want you to convince the world, Lord Black, Lady Black, I want you to convince me."

Orion frowned, looking at her in confusion. "Why do you care?" Why did she? It wasn't like she'd been particularly involved before. Had Lord or Lady Black put her up to this? He felt his guard rising.

She shook her head. "'Caring' is such a silly word." She sighed, looking him over. "Ona and Damon are your trial, they're relatively safe. My cousin is a lot of things, paranoid is one of them. He's testing you." Orion rolled his eyes - of course, because wasn't that always the case with the Dumbledore-rip off? Cassiopeia gave him a death-stare, making him swallow. "There will be others..."

"Other-?" He cut himself off. "Why is this important? Why should I help you?" he sighed, half-hearted, as he fought the urge to slouch in his chair. He was tired.

"You'd be surprised how much the friendship of children bind alliances between families." Cassiopeia steepled her fingers, leering down at him. "I don't expect even you could mess this up. The Parangyos will be easy and despite the Gosforths being fickle little bitches, their decaying bloodline makes them practically symbiotic with the right words and comforts."

He blinked. She'd sworn.

Also, what was the about 'decay'...?

"Oh please. You've heard worse. I have proof." She looked at him coldly, reaching behind herself and pulling out a stack of envelopes tied together by white string. "You're quite popular. It's a secret," she said mockingly, carelessly dropping them on the table with a light 'thump' as if her hands could no longer bear the rubbish.

In fanciful scrawls; Viscaria.

His eyes widened. He felt his heart stop.

"W-What?" He couldn't believe it. He was shaking. "What?" he snapped, his eyes clawing at her face. It was a lie. It was a sick lie. "Troll shit. This is a trick. What do you take me for?" he almost laughed out, wishing he could kill her.

"At the moment, a child with friends very out of reach." She touched his cheek, her fingers were cold, he flinched and resisted the urge to swat them away. "Luckily for you, letters travel with aid. Shocking, isn't it?" She gestured to the letters, and even the slight moment of her hand made him think she'd grab them and destroy them.

He snatched them up.

He ripped string and some of the envelope tore off between his fingers. The top letter flopped in front of him, and ripping off the rest of the envelope, he dared himself to read.

_"Dear Orion,_

_I'm not expecting you to read this. If you are, I'd be surprised since the Black's probably wouldn't know the difference between raising children and burying them considering their track record. Still, whatever the waste of ink, I have nothing better to do right now._

Orion cracked a smile.

He could almost hear voice. Snooty.

_If you are reading this, I bet your oh-so 'great' grandfather and grandmother have proof-read this find it is completely harmless this time. Sometimes I wonder how your day is going. Mine are passable despite my weakling parents and how Draco has grown even more annoying. Mother hopes to fill the hole you left behind with nobodies, her excuse being I need more friends. One persistent nobody is Adelaide, I won't even say her surname because you wouldn't recognise it._

_Darius is more pathetic without you around._

He snorted at that, shaking his head.

Typical.

He smiled.

_Sincerely,_

_Viscaria Malfoy._

He didn't realise the wetness in his eyes at first, his fingers gripping onto the letters tighter.

He could almost hear her saying that all aloud. No doubt she'd be out of breath. He really could. And, he couldn't believe it, that this was her... and if it wasn't really than it was good enough for now.

Another letter, he was hungry. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the name.

_Kai Pagget..._

He only just remembered the name. A dream of dream that was supposed to be forgotten, yet here it was. It reared its ugly head in the most unexpected way, it was an aberration.

Why was it here?

Did he welcome it or not?

He looked up at her, confused, and she was smirking. "Why?" There were a million questions in that one word.

"I admire persistence. The letter you are holding is his hundredth to you, despite you never answering or being allowed them until now," she chuckled, giving him a beguiling look. "Looks like you've had a leech at the sole of your boot all this time. The look on your face." The grin on her face made him want to punch her despite how suicidal.

He cautiously opened the envelope.

_"Orion,_

_I'm not good at writing these things. Quills are stupid. Just gotta tell you life is boring in asylum, Miss Caudwell got us drawing pictures of fire - and, you know me, I love fire, but, she says put a list of words in it to symboliz our feelings, it's shit. _

Orion rolled his eyes. He'd rather do that than be here.

_Wish I could burn this place down, but someone snitched. Did you know Mathilda, you know, the one who picked on Viscaria has been released? Don't know why, only thing wrong with that bitch was she was a bitch, and she still is, so what were they trying to do?_

_You know the ginger kid, Braxten?_

Who?

_He's dead. Experimental magical technique to cure his skin condition didn't work I heard, but they're all hush, hush. Something to do with over-exposure to light. I bet he looked like burnt toast, or dried tomato paste. Both?_

_What do you...? _

Orion sighed, shaking his head.

Putting the letter down, he reached for the next letter to find nothing but a bit of string and the cool surface of the table. He blinked, looking up to find Cassiopeia dangling a letter from her fingers with a smile on her face.

The name read 'Darius'.

Orion felt a sudden flush of anger, embarrassment and sickness. He swallowed it all down.

She knew how to play.

"You win." It was a simple fact. "Are you happy now?"


End file.
